


The Jewel Garden

by RoseEclipse



Series: Casablanca [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-10-05 18:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 110,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10314179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseEclipse/pseuds/RoseEclipse
Summary: Third in the "Casablanca" series. A series of stories inspired by Ezra's friends from Iolanthe.





	1. White Tullip

"Most white flowers signify innocence or purity and white tulips are no different. Another meaning for the white tulips is forgiveness. It also signifies that you are claiming worthiness.

Other symbolic meanings of white tulip are rebirth, sense of hope and renewal. A garden that has a lot of white tulips can also mean having a taste of heaven on earth."

- _Aunty Flo's flower dictionary_

A-A-A

Though the sun hung low and leisurely over the green and gold horizon, it was a dark and ugly day for Ryloth.

A squad of stormtroopers kept their blasters in firing positions lest any of the slaves attempt to escape. With their hands cuffed behind their backs and their shoes removed, running across the gritty landscape would be difficult enough. But they would meet a swifter and more painful end from the stormtroopers if they dared to step out of line.

Instant death or infinite suffering: both were unfathomable outcomes. The doomed Twi'leks would be scattered across the universe and delivered into the hands of their new masters. The men would become laborers and miners while the women would be transformed into playthings for dancing halls and bedchambers.

Corporal Matcher was eager to have the slave transportation completed as soon as possible but he tarried long enough so that his guest, Baron Veld Sparr, could examine the merchandise. The Sparr family fortune may have been teetering lately but it could still be useful to the Empire, which was why Corporal Matcher was ordered to provide his guest with adequate cooperation.

"If you see anything that you desire then name your price," the corporal assured Sparr. The baron said nothing as his eyes quickly swept over the slaves with quick but curious scrutiny.

Most of the Twi'leks answered him with sore eyes and withered faces. But some of the women starred at him with interest. They had taken notice of the fine cloth of his jacket and knew he could keep them warm, fed, and safe. They smiled unabashed at him while their counterparts, some girls no older than twelve, bowed their heads in resolute apprehension.

After a few minutes of silent speculation, Sparr walked straight past the line of slaves and headed towards one of the mud pits. Usually harmless but annoying dust bowls in the summer, they were now saturated and sticky from heavy winter rains.

A naked Twi'lek child was sitting in one of the pits and preoccupied with playing with the slimy muck. She seemed blissfully unware of what was going on some feet away but looked up with interest when Sparr approached the end of the pit. A grubby fist landed back in the mud with a hearty _SPLAT_.

She was a pudgy girl of two or three with fat round cheeks and enormous lavender eyes. Her lekku, which barely touched her shoulders, were also small and pudgy. But even covered in mud her potential was noticeable. Sparr stepped into the pit, instantly ruining his boots, and reached out towards her. Within moments she was in his arms and having her dirty cheeks wiped by his handkerchief. Pleased to be in the embrace of this nice-smelling clean human, she dropped her head against his chest.

Matcher frowned when Sparr came back to him as muddied as his new companion. The baron did not seem upset at all and merely declared, "I'll take this one."

"Are you certain?" Matcher insisted. "There are Twi'leks with far more—"

"This one," Sparr repeated firmly.

Matcher's mouth pursed up with disapproval but he nodded his head. "Fifty."

"I'll have it wired to the Imperial Financial Bureau," Sparr assured him. He carried the girl back to his luxury liner while the slave women cried out and begged him to leave one of their innocent babies alone. The doors slammed shut behind him, permitting Sparr to bask in his private comfort and silence while their screams and howls were quickly drowned out by the roar of engines.

"Master, your attire is filthy," the protocol droid announced.

"You can clean it later. I want this girl washed up and fed a proper meal." He handed the Twi'lek child over to the droid but she began to whimper in protest from the chilled touch of metal arms.

Sparr smiled in reassurance and patted her cheek. "Don't worry, little one. All will be well." To the droid he commanded, "Use plenty of blossom soap."

The droid proceeded to carry the Twi'lek into another chamber and placed her into a copper bathtub heaped with suds. The child's fears quickly dissipated to find herself in such a fun and sweet-smelling place. She gurgled and shrieked with delight as she splashed the water and played with the mountains of white foam heaped around her. The droid carefully scrubbed the mud off her skin, dried the child, and then fed her several meat dumplings and some fruit from a china bowl. The child gobbled down everything and after having her face washed again, was dressed in a white silk frock and given back to Sparr.

He was pleased with the results. Clean and fragrant from soap, the child's skin gleamed a bewitching shade of violet beneath the lights. A smile of strong white teeth spread between her dimpled cheeks. Clad in her snowy outfit, she looked like an exotic little doll sitting upon his knee.

Sparr looked her in the face and said, "I know that I made the right choice."

She responded by sticking her fist into her mouth.

A-A-A

_Three days later, Mandrake Manor_

Moff Vellis would have hated to see such a lovely estate taken away, especially after its owner had offered him such a lavish tea. It was pleasant enough to get away from business and listen to the sound of the waterfall cascade over the side of the house while he admired the lush garden outside the sparkling windows. Though he was known to be strict and direct when it came to Imperial matters, not even the Moff could resist smiling at the adorable purple-skinned child that Sparr held in his arms.

"What a lovely girl," he declared. He removed a wrapped sweet from a tray and handed it to the child, who plucked it from his hand eagerly.

"What do you say?" Sparr asked her.

" _Merci_."

"Basic," he corrected her.

"Tahnk-ooo." She unwrapped the candy and shoved it eagerly into her mouth.

Vellis laughed. "Adorable. I hope you'll be able to keep her after the recent relapse with the Financial Bureau."

"I am confident that the Empire will benefit from our new mertis-lun chemical plant," Sparr replied calmly.

"Our academies will certainly require an ample supply of sterilizers," Vellis agreed. He took a sip of tea and then leaned back in his chair. "What what else do you require?"

"Eighteen months," answered Sparr promptly.

For the first time that afternoon, Vobsper's brow creased with apprehension. "Your family is already in enough debt as it is now, Veld. It will not be easy to convince the Bureau to extend the loan period."

"I understand the risks, Moff Vellis, and thank you for your honesty," the baron said smoothly. "Your devotion to the Empire's future proves that it is in good hands. I am also of the same mind and wish to do my part."

"And I hear you my boy," Vellis declared. "But are you willing to jeopardize the Empire with a gamble?"

"Not at all." Sparr gave his guest a confident smile. "I am willing to offer up Mandrake Manor as collateral. When the loan period is complete the manor will either become direct property of the Empire or all academies in this sector will have an infinite amount of mertis-lun at the best rate possible."

He lightly bounced the girl on his knee, causing her to grin at the Moff. "Your excellency wins either way," he added.

Vellis was already pleased enough with Sparr's self-assurance and the sight of the adorable child in his arms had already worked up enough charm on him. It did not take long for Vellis to come to a decision.

"I think we can extend your loan for another year and a half," he said at last. The Moff grasped the armrests and rose to his feet. "As long as you are willing to forfeit your home in case of a collapse."

"I am willing. But rest assured, there will be no collapse," Sparr announced. "The mertis-lun will be fully available at the end of eighteen months."

The tiny Twi'lek's eyes twinkled at Vellis as if she understood every word of the conversation and sided with her master. Vellis managed a soft chuckle.

"I see that we have an agreement. Send me your contracts promptly and I will see about getting you that extension period." He handed the Twi'lek another sweet and again she burbled her gratitude.

After a round of handshakes and escorting his guest out of Mandrake Manor, Sparr sat back down and bounced the little girl on his knee.

"You are turning out to be the best investment of my life," he told her approvingly. "Well done, my little pet."

She had finished eating her candy and was looking back at this charming generous man in awe. The Twi'lek pointed a finger at his chest. " _Pere_?"

" _Non_. Master," he corrected her.

"Mah-ter."

"Very good." He gently rubbed her back with the palm of his hand. "If you continue to please me then you will have lots more sweets. You will also have nice toys to play with and pretty clothes to wear. Would you like that?"

"Uh-huh, mah-ter."

A-A-A

_Thirteen years later – Haven's Glow Luxury Resort and Recreational Estate_

Io moaned softly as she woke up, stretching her limbs to feel the mattress spread out beneath her. She pulled the covers up over her nose and snuggled down deeply as possible, reluctant to get out of bed.

She still had a few precious minutes before she had to get up and she intended to make the most of it. After lying in a pleasant half-sleep haze for a while, she finally pushed back the sheets and rose to her feet. She dressed carefully and attentively and then made her way down the hallway, stopping once to brush a palm over a bouquet of pink budding flowers. Though silky smooth beneath her fingertips, Io knew that they gave off no scent at all. She walked past the flowers and proceeded to send a transmission to room service requesting fresh kaff and fruit for her master.

The deed was unnecessary as Io found her master in the main suite room, already dressed for business, as he worked with his data-pad. The remains of his breakfast sat on the table.

"Am I late, master?" she asked him.

"No. I was early." Sparr barely looked up from his data-pad.

"You work so hard lately," Io stated with a little empatheic sigh. "I hope all is well."

"It is because all is well that I have been so busy." This time Sparr pushed aside the data-pad and looked up at Io. Beckoning her with a finger, she followed his gesture and slid into a seat across the table from him.

"I have a new job for you," Sparr began. "Senator Garr and his wife currently reside in rooms 45B and 44B. I would like you to get acquainted with him for a few hours this evening."

Io's shoulders twitched with interest. "How 'acquainted' would you like me to become?" she asked her master.

"Not enough for blackmail but just enough for a pleasant distraction. His son has been in and out of four academies and he knows about his wife's affair."

"Poor Senator." Io clucked her tongue.

"Precisely. While he will not do anything to jeopardize his career further, the presence of a pretty young lady should ease his troubled mind for a while." Sparr slid a data-chip and a ring across the table to Io. "The data-chip will copy anything off his personal data files while you keep him entertained."

"And the ring?"

"The contents will make him appear intoxicated for a few hours. He will remember nothing when he wakes up."

Io slipped the ring onto her index finger and admired the cool blue stone gleaming in the morning light. She placed the data-chip into her pocket and rose to her feet.

"You're wearing the silver frock," her master noticed aloud. "Are you trying to impress someone?"

"Only everyone," she smiled. Io left the room and took the transporter to the lobby. The ride was long but she was patient, even amused, as various guests would join her and then be deposited to other floors.

Io was accustomed to the looks of strangers. Bewilderment and jealousy from women inspired her to look them boldly in the faces. She knew how annoyed they were to see this beautiful Twi'lek child who had no need to diet herself to death or cover her body with useless cosmetics to get attention. But the men were even more fun to play with. She would let them meet her gaze and then instantly cast her eyes downwards in feigned modesty. It always got the men riled up. A pity so many of them were older than her because she knew that they would be useless bores.

The ones closer to her age were no better. Io found those young men stupid and annoying. They harassed the staff of Haven's Glow, drank too much alcohol, ruined furniture, and played pranks on the other guests. The only times they tried to communicate to her was by trying to touch her lekku or offer her death-sticks.

Fortunately, the lobby was nearly empty on this beautiful day at Haven's Glow. The only person of interest was standing at the front desk with his back to her. He wore the livery of a manservant and judging by his height and the clear professional tone of his voice, Io presumed he was a year or two older than her.

Her curiosity was instantly piqued by the newcomer's presence. He must serve someone who wished to be discreet but tasteful, just like her master. An Imperial politician, perhaps. Or maybe an inheritor from one of the Republic's last dynasties. She drew closer to the front desk to examine him better.

His dark hair was cropped short in a functional military style. Io hoped that the brain beneath it wasn't as Imperialistic in function. But the hair did look soft to the touch. Io's fingers itched at the thought of sliding over his scalp, imagining the hair velvety smooth to her touch. He had pleasant ears too.

She was now close enough to reach out and touch him yet he still did not seem aware of her presence. The manservant was far more preoccupied with telling the head clerk that the flowers in their rooms were unsuitable for his master. The clerk apologized and the young man responded with a brief comment. Io finally took the initiative.

"How lovely," she murmured aloud. Those charming ears finally worked and tuned in to her voice. The head turned around and the rest of his features more than pleased Io.

It was a young but serious face of a human teen, perhaps seventeen years old, with a clear confident expression. The face was only marred by twin parallel scars that ran across his left cheekbone. Io was intrigued. Had they been caused by a resentful lover? Pity the girl that let this one get away!

His eyes delighted Io the most. A clear bright blue beneath dark brows, the eyes were alert and expressive. She hadn't seen such a beautiful blue shade since the baron had brought her to the oceans of Len-thor. Now that he could see her properly, his eyes were lively with delight as they starred at Io. She found herself thoroughly enjoying his approval of her.

He actually blushed instead of making direct advances, allowing Io to decipher the hidden messages beneath their formal introduction. The chemistry was there but he would restrain his manners in public. " _Perhaps he would let down his guard behind closed doors,"_ she pondered.

Then he offered her one of the flowers that he had brought downstairs, as if she was a personal guest at Haven's Glow instead of her master's handmaiden. Io gladly accepted a blanche-blossom and savored the spicy fragrance that radiated from its petals. Looking up, she saw those wonderful blue eyes still upon her.

The manservant proceeded to introduce himself and offer his hand to hers. Io would have been thrilled had he kissed it but he respectfully shook hers instead. Nevertheless, the entire experience of meeting someone so unique had sparked a new interest in Io. _"Devoted to his master and generous to me,"_ she thought to herself _. "I would like to wake up to those blue eyes every morning."_

"Master Kay." It was charming to say. But his true name of Ezra would sound even sweet on her tongue as would the three kisses she would claim from him after cornering him in his suite. The start of Io's mission to gain Ezra for herself was considered a success.

But she knew little of her master's own plans to goad Alderaan into a civil war nor did she know of Ezra's true identity as a wanted rebel, enemy of the Galactic Empire, or his own master's alias as Kanan Jarrus, wanted Jedi Knight.

What Io did know is that her master was arrested, his wealth seized by the Empire, and that she was sent to prison. Some would have called it an ideal punishment for a vain and selfish girl.

Yet the Force took pity on the girl and her meager fifteen years of age. Thanks to Ezra's help in preventing Alderaan from war, Io was quickly released into the custody of one of his friends.

Tamar Il'yan was a shrewd Twi'lek who kept her modest café on Kaller in pristine condition and her accounts in immaculate order. Under Tamar's watchful eye, Io prudently swept the floors, prepared kaff, and kneaded dough for bread. Her new busy little life was nowhere as luxurious or tempting as it had been with Baron Sparr but there was always something interesting to do or someone with a listening ear to talk to. A few months smoothly went by and Tamar was pleased with Io's progress.

The little Twi'lek still did not dare reveal her deepest desires to Tamar. While chilled winds whipped around Kaller and Io was wrapped cozily in wool blankets in her bunk, she would stare at the ceiling and close her eyes, imagining herself back at Haven's Glow. She would remember the embrace of Ezra Bridger's arms, feeling his lips against hers, envisioning the blue flames in his eyes when he spoke her.

" _You're more beautiful than anything I've ever seen."_

A-A-A

_Four months later:_

Kanan Jarrus had an awkward situation on his hand. It had been some time since he and Ezra had embarked on their undercover mission on Haven's Glow and he had hoped that Io continued to stay safe and well with their friends on Kaller.

How Io managed to get snatched off Kaller and crammed into a smuggler's ship was a simplified story: the usual scoundrels who lurked in alleyways had been grabbing girls and boys off the streets and selling them off to eager bidders. Fortunately, Aurora Squadron had allied with Phoenix Squadron and together they quickly chased down the smuggling vessel and freed the prisoners who had been locked in the cargo hold.

Hera wanted to bring Io back to Kaller as soon as possible and Kanan agreed. But Aurora Squadron required extra hands and Commander Sato requested Zeb and Sabine's help in delivering the rest of the freed prisoners back to their homes. Io would have to stay on board the Ghost for the next rotation until they could reach Kaller. Unfortunately, Ezra had just returned from his own scouting mission which meant he would have to share the same space with the mischief Twi'lek who had caused him much heartache and frustration after Haven's Glow.

Kanan thought that Ezra had been generous to give Io a second chance. She may have only been a teenager but her master had spent years molding Io into his personal tool of allurement. Io had attempted to use the same tricks to win Ezra over and the padawan had been shaken up from her advances. It had taken a painful confession to Kanan for Ezra to reconcile with the experience but after coming to terms with himself, Ezra wanted Io to have the chance to do right by herself.

Now that she was in Ezra's presence again, Kanan was concerned that some of Sparr's old influence would surface in Io. He had spent only a minute in the rec room but could tell from Ezra's uncomfortable silence and Io's breathing patterns that all was not well.

"I've already contacted Tamar to let her know that you're all right," Hera told Io. "We should arrive at Kaller by tomorrow morning."

Io managed to tear her eyes away from Ezra long enough to address Hera. "Thank you for rescuing me, Captain Syndulla," she murmured with a slight bow.

Ezra stepped backwards and instantly crashed into Chopper. The astromech gurgled irritably and Ezra's ears turned red. "Sorry!" he blurted out. Io let out a sudden giggle and covered her hands with her mouth.

Kanan couldn't imagine how such a delicate scenario would play out before the High Jedi Council.

" _Master Kenobi, Master Yoda, I have a problem. This young Twi'lek girl has attempted to deceive and seduce my padawan. No, fortunately interventions were made before they could perform the act itself. Though my padawan has been diligent in controlling his desires and the girl has shown signs of reformation, she still continues to show an unhealthy interest in him._

_How, Master Windu? I may not be able to see her but I can sense from her heart rate and tone that she would like nothing more than to take off his clothes with her teeth."_

Much to Kanan's relief, Hera took hold of the situation and clapped her hands for attention. "It's been a long day for all of us so everyone should turn in early for the night. Ezra, I want you to get an extra feather-bog comforter from the cargo hold. Io can sleep in Sabine's room tonight."

"Sure. Yeah," he mumbled. Ezra managed to get around Chopper without another awkward collision and practically ran out of the room. Hera noticed that Io was still starring at the place where Ezra had been standing and cleared her throat to get Io's attention.

"Follow me, Io. I'll show you where you'll be staying."

Io walked behind the captain down the hallway and into the Mandalorian's room. Instantly her nose crinkled up at the explosion of colors that ran up and along the walls. " _Nauseating_ ," Io thought to herself. _"Tamar has better taste than this."_

Knowing that she was in the presence of her elders and that Tamar would _not_ tolerate insolence, Io managed to restrain herself enough to remark aloud, "How interesting."

Hera smiled at Io's comment. "That's putting it politely." As soon as Ezra had deposited the comforter at the door (still avoiding Io's gaze) he left in a hurry. Io helped Hera spread out the blanket and several sheets on the lower bunk.

"The refresher is in the upper level if you need it. The cooling compressor switches vents every six hours so don't worry if you hear hissing sounds," Hera assured her.

"I won't," Io responded. Hera watched her diligently slipped beneath the comforter and rest her head on the pillow.

"Good night, Io."

"Good night, Captain Syndulla." Io shut her eyes at once and appeared to be perfectly content in wiling herself to go to sleep. Hera switched off the lights and let the door slide shut.

Hera made her way past several doors until she was in Kanan's room, safely assured that Io would not be able to hear their conversation. The Jedi was sitting upon a cushion with his legs folded beneath him. His visor was resting upon a bench and his eyes were closed. Hera quietly observed the Jedi in his contemplative state for a moment, knowing that he was attempting to draw upon the wisdom of his mentors to restore balance.

"Ezra's in his room," Kanan said at last. "Did Io give you any trouble?"

"Not yet," Hera told him. She sighed and sat down on the lower bunk. "Tamar told us that if Io misbehaves we're to tell her right away."

"I respect Tamar's honesty. But I hope that we won't have treat Io like a child."

"Kanan, she _is_ a child!" Hera spoke up with sudden heat in her voice. Kanan could only imagine how disturbed Hera was to encounter a Twi'lek who had been bred from childhood to do such terrible things. Io had not only complied but seemed to have reveled in her servitude.

"We know that. But I doubt Io is aware of how dangerous her position with Baron Sparr was," Kanan explained. "She was trained to play the role of a seductive woman while her mind and heart remain that of a young girl. Io can only mature so fast."

"You mean knowing right from wrong is still a new concept for Io," Hera suggested. Kanan nodded in agreement. "What happens next?"

Kanan placed a palm down and rose to his feet. "Io has to learn the gift of free will. That means choosing to do the right thing even without Tamar or anyone else having to guide her every step of the way."

He heard the sound of Hera exhaling and could detect a ripple of sadness emulating off her. "I guess you're right," she agreed at last. A gentle hand fell upon Kanan's arm and then the weight of Hera's head resting upon his shoulder. The Jedi threaded his arm around her waist and held her against his body.

Hera's voice hovered just below his chin and seemed to vibrate through his chest, each word weighty with concern and empathy. "I know we can't save everybody. But when I see that girl and think about what was done to her, what she did to other people and to Ezra, I hope that we are able to make this right."

" _I agree_ ," he thought. Though Kanan's lips didn't move, Hera knew from his silence that he was of the same mind as her. The knowledge they shared, twined with respect and affection, allowed Hera to close her eyes as her head rested against Kanan's chest.

"We could lock their doors just as a precaution," she heard herself murmur. The Jedi's chest rumbled with sudden laughter, momentarily bringing Hera's worried thoughts up to amusement.

"Tamar suggested the same thing," Kanan chuckled.

A-A-A

_Five hours later:_

Had Sabine Wren been present, she would have swiftly tackled the little Twi'lek who currently preoccupied her room before Io could even get away.

As the young Mandalorian was not present, it was not difficult for Io to rise from her mattress and pry the door open. She listened carefully for sounds in the corridor and after hearing nothing but the cooling vents gurgling away, swiftly exited Sabine's room and began to walk on bare feet down the hallway.

Io's journey was interrupted when her right knee abruptly banged into a cold hard surface. Io cursed softly and rubbed her sore kneecap. A tiny light beamed itself into her eyes, causing her to squint and swipe her hands in the air. Looking down she saw the astromech blocking her path. Chopper gurgled with glee and demanded input from her.

"Nothing!" she hissed. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I might ask you the same question."

Io spun around to see Kanan sitting at the small table in the Ghost's rec room. As annoyed as she was with the astromech, she was confounded by the sight of the Jedi before her.

"I…." her voice trailed off. "I couldn't sleep."

"Were you looking for Ezra's room?" His voice was surprisingly calm and controlled without a hint of accusation. It was merely a question of curiosity and Io found herself nodding, even before realizing that the gesture would be impossible for a blind man to comprehend.

He gestured to a place across the table. "Sit down, Io."

She flinched, anticipating a punishment, but did as she was told.

"What were you planning to do if you got to Ezra's room?"

She shrugged. "Wake him up."

Kanan tilted his head slightly to the right. "Did Ezra ask you to wake him up?"

"No," she answered honestly. "I want to surprise him."

"Do you think Ezra would want to be surprised in the middle of the night?"

"Not at first," Io said and then added brightly, "But I'm sure I could—"

The man across the table remained silent, his features solemn and yet patiently waiting for Io to explain herself. She fumbled for an explanation. "I had hoped to catch him off guard," she explained feebly.

Kanan placed both palms on the table. "Before you go any further, I want to remind you that this ship belongs to Captain Syndulla and you are considered her guest. To bring unexpected trouble would be a breach of hospitality on your behalf."

"Trouble," Io repeated. Then she sighed and slumped back in her seat. "That's just another word for 'fun' when people don't want you to have any."

Her frank perspective made it hard for Kanan not to smile. "You find me amusing?" Io demanded.

"I think you're being honest instead of using the baron's tricks to get what you want." He went on. "Do you think it was 'fun' to lead Ezra on at Haven's Glow?"

"I did not intend to deceive or hurt Ezra," Io protested. "I just…I wanted him."

"You _wanted_ him," Kanan repeated. To Io it was as if Ezra was no more than a desired trinket for her to claim. This was what the galaxy had come to be without the Jedi: a place where people had no control over themselves and no empathy for others.

Then the blind man asked Io another question. "Why did you want Ezra?"

Io shifted in her seat and as she talked further, the words seemed to flow easily out of her mouth. "Because he was nice and handsome and not like the other boys I've met," she began. "When they see me they usually try to corner me or touch me. But the first thing Ezra did was offer me a flower and then speak to me as if I was his equal. He made me feel appreciated. Strong. Happy."

"He was kind to you," Kanan confirmed.

"Yes." Io nodded eagerly. "So I wanted to keep him so that he would stay and be kind to me."

"But you weren't kind to him, Io," the Jedi explained gently. "You let the baron deceive Ezra. You wouldn't let him go when he asked. And when he wouldn't do as you said, you threatened him with my life and then drugged him. That isn't kindness. That is controlling someone else against their wishes."

For once, Io had nothing to say. It was as if the blind man had taken shards of glass out of Io's former self and placed them upon the table for her to see. For the first time in fifteen years, Io was being led to examine her faults. She did not like this feeling of guilt that came with a budding conscience and it made her feel vulnerable.

"I didn't want him to go," she admitted softly. A small ache had formed in her stomach. "Do you know what it is like to desire something with every fiber of your body and then have it taken away from you?"

For a moment there was only silence. And then the blind man responded softly, "I do, Io. I lost someone close to me years ago. The pain is still strong today."

"How do you bear it?" Io asked in wonder.

"It take maturity to accept the things that you cannot change and wisdom to know what you _can_ change."

Kanan listened to the sound of tiny fingertips drumming on the table as this new revelation began to unfold before Io. "I cannot change what Ezra thinks about me, can I?" she asked. Her companion shook his head. In a softer voice she asked, "Does he despise me?"

"I know he was hurt and upset from what you did to him," Kanan admitted. "You gained his body but you lost his trust in the process. But in coming to terms with himself, I believe he was able to make peace with it."

Io tried to smile weakly. "So he does care," she suggested.

"He cares about your future and safety," Kanan responded neutrally. "I think it was generous of him to ask Tamar to take you in. The Empire would have sent you to prison for the rest of your life as payment for your master's crimes. Do you want to go back to an Imperial cell?"

"No!" Io suddenly cried out. "Never!" Two days in solitary confinement had been more than enough of a punishment for a girl who had always slept on satin sheets and worn silk gowns. Aware that her heart was beating faster than usual, Io tried to calm herself down. But it was difficult and frightening, especially in the presence of a man who could not see her face yet seemed capable of reading her thoughts.

"What are you going to do?" she asked meekly.

The Jedi merely folded him arms across his chest. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," he repeated. "I'm giving you a chance to do the right thing, Io." He pointed down the hallway. "Ezra's room is the last one on the left. You can go in if you choose to do so. But if you get into trouble then you will have to accept the consequences. Nobody else will be able to justify your actions."

Her eyes widened curiously. "And if I chose not to?"

"Then you will be proving that you respect Ezra's privacy." Kanan added gently, "And you will gain _my_ trust."

He could hear her heart rate increasing again, sensing Io's conflicting emotions as she kept eyeing the doorway, imaging her ideal prize asleep and utterly vulnerable. It was such a tantalizing thought that Io had to close her eyes and concentrate, trying to remind herself that no, it had _not_ worked before and it would not work now. Baron Sparr would not be able to come in and tell her that everything was all right and he could fix it with a mountain of credits. Tamar would be furious with her and no doubt Captain Syndulla would be disappointed with Io's behavior.

Yet this strange insightful man had awakened a different sort of desire in her. It was a desire to be thanked and appreciated, to bask in the newly-discovered warmth of love, approval, and kindness instead of pushing other people down out of spite. The little Twi'lek who had known nothing of the wisdom of the Force or the guidance of a Jedi was slowly waking up to the possibility that she could look past her own wants and desires, striving to become something better than what she was before.

But this was _Ezra_ that they had spoken of. The wonderful blue-eyed bridge maker who inspired passion and desire in Io. It was painful to think of turning away from such a sweet opportunity so close to her fingertips. _"I know I could do it,"_ she thought. _"But what would Ezra say?"_

Kanan listened attentively as Io took several steps towards the door, reaching out with eager fingers. He exhaled softly and to Io, it was the sound of a sigh of disappointment.

The footsteps came back and then there was sound of someone sliding back into their seat.

"Will you stay and talk to me some more?" Her voice trembled slightly when she spoke. "I, I like the sound of your voice."

The Jedi's lids opened and he turned his head towards Io. She could not see the opaque film over his eyes. But when he smiled it was as if a warm blanket had fallen upon Io's shoulders.

"I will stay as long as you like," Kanan assured her.

A-A-A

_Later:_

"Let me guess. Aurora Squadron had a falling out with their tech manager?" Hera suggested with a slight smile.

"Just when you think they've got their sector up and running something breaks down," Zeb grumbled. "I can only stick around here long enough to get enough power convertors for their shields."

"Good thing we have a Chief of Security to help get them back on track," she assured him. Hera looked up to see Sabine walking out of her room. "How's our guest?" she asked the teen.

"I don't know," Sabine responded. "But my room smells like blossom soap."

Hera would have dropped the box of convertors that she was holding had Zeb not taken them out of her arms. She suddenly strode past Sabine and into the rec room where she saw Io curled up on the couch with a blanket spread over her.

Hera reached with one gloved hand and gently shook Io's shoulder. "Io?"

The girl blinked curiously and then groaned, stretching one hand over her head. She looked confused and groggy from having curled up into an uncomfortable position. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Io managed to look up and notice Sabine and Zeb flanking Hera. The sight of the hulking Lassat caused Io to shriek and clutch the blanket in her hand.

"So that's an 'Io'," Zeb chuckled. "Looks just like you, Hera, only smaller."

"What are you doing out here?" Hera demanded in a cool tone.

Io drew the blanket around her shoulders in a defensive position. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could even say a single word, Kanan had appeared in the doorway carrying a cup of kaff in each hand.

"Neither of us could sleep last night so we stayed up talking," he explained. His tone was calm and cheerful as he walked across the room and offered a cup to Hera, who accepted instinctively.

"Talking?" Sabine repeated.

"Yes," Kanan assured her. "We had some tea and then Io fell asleep. I didn't want to wake her up so I left her here."

Hera looked from Kanana back to Io. "Is this true?" The little Twi'lek nodded her head quickly.

"Good thing you don't sleepwalk, kid," Zeb said with a wry grin. "You might've fallen out of the air-lock by accident."

Io bristled from the comment. "I am not _that_ stupid," she retorted.

Everyone laughed instinctively and she couldn't tell if they were were amused by her comment or herself. But it made Io look down uneasily at the floor. She suddenly wanted to be off this ship and back on Kaller, getting into her daily routine beneath Tamar's guidance.

Fortunately, Kanan's words seemed to smooth things over. "The important thing is that you're all right," Hera said with a smile. She offered Io a hand and helped the little Twi'lek get to both feet. "Are you hungry?"

"No," Io stated. Then she added, "Thank you."

"We'll be approaching Kaller soon," Hera said. "Sabine and Chopper can use the Phantom to take you down to Central Boulevard."

"I would," Sabine admitted. "If Aurora Squadron hadn't run out of their last crate of hand explosives so quickly." She patted her heavily-armed utility belt proudly. "Someone has to teach them how to throw them properly without wasting a single punch."

Hera was about to ask Kanan if he could help when an eager voice spoke up.

"I can take her," Ezra offered. He was standing in the doorway, already dressed and carrying a sack of supplies thrown over one shoulder. Seeing everyone stare at him in surprise, he gave his friends a confident shrug.

"What?" he smiled. "Chopper and I will get Io home and be back here in under an hour. It'll be too short a time for us to get into any trouble."

"Oh, I'm sure you can think of something," Sabine smirked with a shake of her head.

"Kanan?" Hera exchanged a glance with her peer.

"If Ezra is okay with it then so am I," he confirmed.

"Chopper, start the countdown," Zeb grinned. "Sixty minutes to Armageddon." Heaving another box of supplies over his own shoulder, Sabine followed Zeb to the docking ramp where Aurora Squadron was waiting for their assistance.

"Captain Syndulla, Master Jarrus." Io nodded her head to both of them. "I thank you for your hospitality."

"You're welcome, Io. Please send our regards to Tamar."

Io turned around and then followed Ezra towards the Phantom. Chopper followed along, grumbling loudly so that everyone could hear his discomfort.

"No, Chopper. You can visit Kaller's arcade another time," Hera told him. The astromech banged a mechanical arm on the side of the ship in frustration but followed Ezra out of the room, protesting all the way.

Once everyone had left and the humming sound of the Ghost's engine was audible, Hera collapsed onto the couch and let out a final sigh of relief, feeling tension deflate out of her lungs and then drawing a calm steady breath inward. Kanan sat down next to her with the flicker of a smile on his face.

Hera noticed his expression and couldn't help but smile back. "Talking," she said at last.

"Talking," he repeated.

She tilted her chin upward and rested her head back against the cushion. "All things considered, last night could have been a lot worse."

"Agreed."

Hera then leaned her head back forward far enough to sip from her cup of kaff. The liquid heat and sharp flavor stole into her soul with a surge of confidence. She took a few long lingering sips as her limbs relaxed.

The ship continued to purr and hum around them like a content Loth-cat.

"It's oddly quiet without everyone else here, isn't it?" she asked at last.

"Mmhm," Kanan agreed.

"I suppose we should enjoy it while it lasts."

"Mmhmm."

Hera took another sip of kaff. "One hour doesn't give us much time."

"Time for what?"

Removing her gloves from her hands, Hera's tapering fingers lightly walked across the table. They touched Kanan's palm, sliding across the length of his hand before playfully twining with his own fingers.

"Fifty nine minutes," Kanan reminded her.

"Mmhmm," Hera agreed. She leaned closer to him, feeling Kanan's warmth radiating off his skin just before she pressed her lips to his.

A-A-A

_Phantom, approaching Kaller:_

Io fiddled with her fingers while Ezra guided the Phantom down into Kaller's lower atmosphere. They weren't exactly alone, thanks to that annoying chatterbox of a droid in the top turret, but Io wasn't as thrilled to be sitting so close to Ezra as she thought she would be. Last night's discussion had caused new emotions to blossom within Io and she was still struggling to sort them out.

"Thank you," Ezra said at last.

Io jerked her head up. "For what?"

"For not doing what you planned to do last night."

Her eyes narrowed warily at him. "Did Master Jarrus tell you?"

"Kanan didn't have to," he answered quietly.

"But I did want you, Ezra! Very badly!" Io blurted out. _"I still do_ ," she thought. In spite of her honesty, Ezra appeared calm and focused.

Io shook her head in astonishment. "Why do you not protest when you know the truth?"

"I can't protest something you didn't do," Ezra admitted. "If you knew something was wrong and resisted it, that means you're stronger than you think you are."

Io fell back in her seat, nearly overwhelmed with the enlightenment of his words. "The baron taught me that strength came from controlling other people. But now you are telling me that strength is controlling yourself?"

Ezra nodded with a grin. "Now you know what it means to be a Jedi."

"Jeh-di," Io said slowly. The word was lofty upon her tongue. "Master Jarrus told me about them last night. We talked about many other things too. He is a strange man, Ezra."

"How so?"

"I do not think he desires anything for himself," Io stated truthfully. "He appears to care more about who I am now than who I was before."

"I like you better than you were before too," Ezra admitted frankly.

"Really? You do?" An unexpected thrill ran through Io. "That makes me happy. I would be disappointed to know that I have been trying to be good all this time for nothing."

Ezra suddenly laughed, a bright hearty sound that bewildered Io even more than it pleased her. "You're not 'good for nothing'," he said at last. "If being good was easy then everyone would do it all the time."

"It's hard for me too." His tone deepened and Io saw his eyebrows turn down with a hint of sadness. "I used to think tapping into my anger would make me a better Jedi. That new power gave me an incredible rush of energy whenever I used it. My missions were a success and I felt faster and stronger every day."

Io gripped her kneecaps, enthralled by his story. "What happened to you?"

"I got in over my head." His features hardened when Ezra continued. "The problem is that when you're angry you can't make good decisions. I shouted at Kanan and said terrible things to him. I hurt people and broke things. My team nearly got killed because I was impatient. I had to learn to let go of my anger and replace it with patience and discipline. If I didn't, I'd have lost everything that I was trying too hard to protect."

Ezra took his eyes off the controls long enough to look at Io. Her face was curious and wistful; there was an innocence to her expression that he hadn't seen in her before. "So I know how difficult it can be to do the right thing," he said at last.

"Is it worth it, Ezra?" Io asked softly. "Does it matter in the end?"

He turned around in his seat to face her properly, a glimmer of animation in his eyes. "Would you like to see?"

"Oh, yes please!" Io didn't know what Ezra was about to show her but whatever it was, she was fully intrigued to know more about the Jedi.

"Chopper, keep us on autopilot!" Ezra called to the astromech.

_"Gr-gr-whaha-phhht!"_

"You're welcome!"

Ezra got up from his seat and walked over to his satchel, rummaging around inside for a minute. Io tried to hide her disappointment when he removed what looked like an outdated glow wand and held it at arm's length. But then he pressed a thumb to a button the side of the wand. There was a _click_ followed by a crisp snapping sound and a _hiss-_

"Oh my," Io murmured. The beam of cool green light burst out of the wand, revealing the lightsaber in Ezra's hands. Before her eyes he immediately began to to move through the motions of Form Two. The Phantom was not an ideal situation to practice lightsaber moves but Ezra did his best in the limited space, imagining himself blocking a laser blast low and then moving to block two imaginary threats from a high maneuver. He drew a step backwards and whirled around quickly on one heel, spinning into a full circle before landing back in place with his knees bent.

Elbows up and eyes forward, he envisioned the enemy approaching faster and allowed his moves to fold from one into the other while Kanan's instructions flowed with the mantra in his head. Makashi was focused and fluid which meant to move high then low, twist and turn, lunge forward and then right step back...

Io watched with enthrallment as Ezra used the lightsaber and to her it was as if he was not only synchronized with the radiance of emerald light in his hand but even working with the very air and space around him. He ended on a final lunge with the lightsaber clasped in both hands above his forehead and held the pose for a moment, eyes alight with the rush of energy. Then he turned off the lightsaber and stood up, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist.

"That was wonderful!" Io couldn't stop clapping her hands with excitement. "It was more beautiful than any dance I have ever seen."

"It's not only beautiful, Io. It's sacred." Ezra had to stop and catch his breath for a minute. "The Force gives a Jedi his strength and its through the Force that he learns to protect himself." He extended the lightsaber to her. "Would you like to try?"

She starred in awe at Ezra and then at the weapon in his hand. "You are letting me hold your sacred sword?"

"Of course. I trust you."

She carefully wrapped her fingers around the handle and activated the button. Io nearly reeled back when the tiny cockpit was bathed in green light and it was no less wondrous the second time then the first. Though the weapon's blaze was only inches from her nose, Io did not feel it giving off any heat, only a smooth even humming sound that was oddly soothing yet made her attentive. Ezra reached out with both hands and carefully guided her fingers into a secure grip.

"It can still be a dangerous weapon if you don't use it properly," he warned Io. "The lightsaber can be your enemy as much as your ally. Can you feel its energy in your hands?"

"I, I think so." She tentatively let it sway slightly right and left. "It does not feel as heavy as I thought it would be."

"That's good. It means you're giving it the respect and focus it requires." He moved around behind Io and this time put his hand on her wrist. She felt a flush rise in her cheeks as he slowly and gently helped her move the lightsaber into a single form. Whatever delight Io had anticipated from being in such close contact with Ezra had been dimmed in comparison to being in the presence of the all-wise and understanding Force between them. It was a happy sensation yet also serious and wondrous.

"That's your standard defense pose," he explained.

The Phantom gave a sudden lurch to the right, sending Io and Ezra crashing into the wall. Io's back hit Ezra squarely in the chest and she dropped the lightsaber in shock. The lightsaber would have spiraled dangerously into the air but Ezra's reflexes, after countless missions in space, kicked in and he managed to snatch it in midair.

"Chopper!" Ezra fumed, shouting back to the turret. A gurgled binary response came back.

"Kriff," the teen grumbled. He placed his hands on Io's shoulders to steady her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." She tried to turn ahead aside so that he wouldn't see the warmth in her face. It was difficult to control the rush of adrenaline when she had felt the firm grip of his palm on her shoulder and while Io knew she could have attempted to throw her arms around him and feign innocence while embracing him, somehow that did not seem appropriate.

She was seeing Ezra through different eyes now. He was showing Io how vast and wondrous the universe truly was when you opened yourself up to its possibilities and dedicated yourself to inspiring the good in others. She did not want to ruin this incredible experience and respectfully stepped back while Ezra carefully replaced the lightsaber in his satchel.

"Baron Sparr never told you about the Jedi, did he?"

Io shook her head. "I do not think he would have liked Jedi anyway. If someone else had a power that he could not claim for himself then he would find a way to remove that power."

Ezra could find nothing to respond to this, only silence and relief that Baron Sparr was no longer part of their lives. Perhaps at one point in his life he had been a decent ordinary man, or at least had the potential for good, but Sparr had made his own choices and walked a selfish path into his demise. Nobody in the galaxy mourned his death or would continue his legacy. His star had burnt out while Io's had yet to shine forth.

Her nose crinkled up with concern. "Is Tamar a Jedi?"

"No. Why?"

"Sometimes I think she can read my mind. I would not like to be around her if she acquired a light-saber or lost her temper," Io warned Ezra.

His smile confirmed Io that he was in agreement with her.

"You don't have to be a Jedi to get positive results," Ezra said. "Tamar is living proof of that."

A-A-A

_Kaller, one hour later:_

"I had to promise the lounge that their surplus drapes would never be seen worn on 'common' folk," Tamar spoke into the commlink. "But they finally sold them to me for minimum credits."

Hogarth's voice crackled through the tiny communication device. "What are you doing to do with them?" he asked.

"That's high-quality Tresper cotton in those drapes." Tamar could not suppress her smile. "They will make excellent sleepwear and undergarments for children in the refugee district."

"And none the wiser for not seeing them, right?" Hogarth's chuckle came out in a low rumble.

"Precisely. Clean clothes means a healthy child. A healthy child means a happy parent." Tamar continued walking down the street with the commlink clutched between her fingers. Her stride was brisk as she was anxious to get back to her cafe, allowing pedestrians only a brief glimpse of the Twi'lek with bright blue skin. Her lekku nearly floated behind her as she nimbly stepped over a hole in the ground and crossed the street.

"No need to rush, boss. Io got dropped off half an hour ago."

"Did you feed Ezra?"

"He said he was in a hurry so I sent him off with a care package as big as he could carry," Hogarth assured her. "He and his crew will have homemade tuber soup and meat pastries for dinner tonight."

"Thank you, Hogarth. Stars knows how that boy manages to grow when he's living up in space off dehydrated packets." Tamar shook her head with disgust. Her empathy for the Rebellion had increased since she first met Ezra but Tamar believed in keeping her feet firmly on the ground and eating whatever could be grown or baked with ones own hands.

"How did he seem? I mean, having Io around?"

"Hard to tell, boss. Boy seemed chipper as ever and Io, well, she's been in the kitchen all morning."

"If its that quiet in the cafe then it usually means trouble," Tamar warned.

"She's been singing, if that helps."

"Hmmm." Tamar slipped the commlink into her pocket and hastened her stride. While she trusted Hogarth with her life, Tamar wanted to see the results with her own eyes. Within minutes she had descended down the stone steps into her cafe and immediately a round of customers cheered and raised their cups of kaff to her.

"Hurrah for Tamar!"

"Here she is, the prettiest Twi'lek in the galaxy!"

"And getting prettier every day."

"Sing us a song, please Tamar?"

"Yes! Yes! Sing us ' _The Ballad of Alderaan_ '! We'll buy out the cafe if we have to!"

She gave one of them a lovely smile and assured him that a song was overdue and she would be glad to sing for them once her affairs were in order. She deposited her cloak and pocketbook in her tiny office and then made her way to the kitchen.

Hogarth's sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and sweat lightly beaded his skin, running into the grooves of his scars as he worked the kaff machine. With his flaming red hair and craggy features, his presence was that of a massive mountain next to the small lithe figure of Io.

Several brass pots of fresh kaff sat gleaming on the counter, each one having been buffed and polished diligently by Io. A tray of fresh buns sat on her left while new unbaked balls of dough were lining up on her right. Io had fallen into a meditative motion as she used her thumbs and index fingers to make the imprint of a flower on every bun. Singing softly to herself, she was brushing them with bantha butter before they were popped into the oven. The freshest tray shined with glossy golden crusts beneath the lamps.

Io broke off her singing when she saw Tamar in the doorway. Her employer walked over and examined her handiwork.

"Is it all right if I did that with the buns?" she asked.

Tamar picked up a fresh bun and nibbled it lightly, then nodded to Io in approval. "They look as pretty as they are good to eat," she said at last. "You can do it anytime you like."

Dimples appeared in Io's cheeks when she smiled. Hogarth seized three kaff pitchers in each hand and easily carried them out to the customers, allowing the Twi'leks to have a few minutes of privacy.

"How are you feeling?"

Io's eyes widened at her. "I am fine. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Tamar shrugged her shoulders. If Io didn't want to talk then it was all right with her. Yet Tamar could sense a hint of deepness in her, the touch of maturity that suggested Io may at last be on her journey to womanhood.

Tamar turned to leave the room and had only rested a hand upon the doorway when Io spoke up again.

"Ezra is a nice boy, isn't he?" Io asked her.

"He is," Tamar answered coolly.

She was wary of where this line of conversation was going but then Io went on. "I want to be like him," she said in a soft but audible voice. She stopped what she was doing and looked Tamar directly in the face. "I want to be kind and smart like Ezra."

Tamar appeared to be momentarily stunned; an instance without a witty response was a rare one for her. Her lack of words caused Io to keep her flour-covered hands in place, uncertain if she had spoken out of turn. Much to Io's surprise, Tamar drew closer to Io and resting her hands on Io's shoulders, lightly kissed the girl on the cheek.

It was Io's turn to be surprised. Tamar had given her permission and approval before but this was the first time that she had shown affection for Io; and the first time Io's heart grew warm and light to be the recipient of it.

"You are growing into a fine young woman," Tamar complimented her. "Kind and smart as well."

Io's lavender eyes shined with hope. "I am?"

"Yes, you are." Tamar straightened up and dusted some flour off her shirt. "And I realize that you've been doing a good job lately. Perhaps Hogarth could mind the cafe for a day while we take a trip into town," she suggested. "How would you and Nava like to go shopping with me? We could have lunch at one of the nice restaurants and you could pick out a brand new dress."

Io beamed with delight and Tamar thought she never looked prettier. "Really? Do you mean it?"

"Yes I do. We'll make it a 'girls day out', just the three of us."

"I would like that very much, Tamar."

The sound of tin cups banging against wooden tables echoed from the front of the cafe. Tamar smiled and shook her head. "I'd better get back there before our customers lose their appreciation of music." She headed back into the cafe and soon the rowdy customers had fallen silent as Tamar's sweet voice floated around them.

 _"Can you hear me my dear one,_ " Tamar sang. _"Your eyes are full of stars, your lips are full of love..."_

 _"May the light of my hope find you someday,"_ Io sang softly to herself. _"From the shining skies above."_

A-A-A

Author's notes: This was a fun challenge to write and inspired by the events of "Holocrons of Fate" and "Trials of the Darksaber". Jedi have a mission to maintain balance in the galaxy and on a personal level, helping others find balance within themselves. Watching Kanan help guide Ezra and Sabine to overcome their insecurities and find their inner balance is a highlight of the show for me.

If anyone's read "Hyacinth" then they know Io is terribly unbalanced and rooted in selfishness. Empathy, personal responsibility, and delayed gratification are all new concepts to her. Kanan asked her a lot of questions in this fic but that's because he wants Io to come to her own conclusions instead of spelling everything out for her. She struggled insanely hard to let go of Ezra. But in respect his privacy, she's learning to respect him as a person. To me, Io will always have a sweet spot in her heart for him but over time she will (hopefully) grow out of her unhealthy infatuation of him.


	2. Lotus

"White lotus flowers are usually seen under the feet of deities like Lakshmi, Ganesha, and Saraswati. Brahma, the ultimate creator, emerges from a Lotus as well. This sense of purity arises from the flower's growing habit of rooting in mud and pushing up through the water to bloom.

The Buddhist Lotus represents patience, purity, enlightenment, self-awareness, and faithfulness during spiritual development."

- _Flowermeaning website_

A-A-A

Two lightsabers clashed in midair, causing steam and sparks to hiss off the blades.

"You're not taking Ezra!" Kanan growled.

"I believe I am," his enemy laughed. Though Kanan could not see Maul's malicious grin there was no mistaking the taunting glee in his voice.

The double-bladed weapon lashed out four more rapid-fire times and Kanan swiftly blocked each attack with his lightsaber. He was able to focus as long as he knew that his apprentice was removed from Maul's sway and following Kanan's orders to move to safety. Ezra was scrambling towards higher ground as the uneven terrain beneath their feet let out another tremor. The padawan wobbled from the impact but managed to turn sideways and jam his heels into the ground, preventing himself for being hurled downhill.

Master and apprentice were both aware of the urgency of getting away from Maul and off the planet soon as possible. Every minute they stayed longer multiplied their odds of being swallowed by an avalanche.

A shudder vibrated beneath Kanan's feet just before the cliffs roared with aggravation. His ears pricked at the sounds of rock and earth slowly crumbling apart, gaining speed as chunks of boulder began tumbling downhill. Ezra staggered again when the rocky plates beneath his feet slid him towards Kanan. No sooner did he regain his footing them he realized that his mentor had been placed directly into the line of fire: as Maul had intended from the beginning.

"Kanan, behind you!" Ezra yelled out. "Get out of the way!"

The boulder's kinetic energy released waves of tension that Kanan absorbed as a warning from the Force, trying to maneuver himself out of harm's way. But even with his inborn gift, he could not predict the path of every oncoming rock or run fast enough to escape the ravine. Ezra's hands rammed into his master's back, shoving Kanan down into a ditch. His face slammed against the ground, causing thoughts to rattle around in his head. No sooner had Kanan realized that he was still alive then he heard the sickening sound of rock colliding with human bone and flesh.

It was all happening so far and yet slowly, like a nightmare unfolding before him. Pinned down beneath a plate of rock, Kanan frantically tried to propel it away, all the while sensing Ezra's unconscious shattered body was just several feet away.

"Ezra! I'm coming!" he hollered. Kanan was well aware that Ezra couldn't hear him but he had to say the words aloud, to reassure himself if not anything else. He had to focus, had to get himself freed _before_ he could help Ezra.

"You fool," Maul's voice hissed above him. "What have you done?" Waves of wrath were rippling off his body like flares from a sun as Maul's gaze went from Kanan to Ezra. Realizing that his opponent was no longer a threat, Maul slowly walked over to the boy's wounded body and extended a hand towards him.

"Maul, don't you dare touch him!" Kanan shouted. Ignoring the Jedi's words, Maul raised his palm upwards and concentrated upon his task. The Force shifted with resolute around them. Ezra's body obediently followed the command and lifted itself several feet above the ground. His head and arms hung limply in the air.

"Don't worry, Master Jedi." Maul's voice had abruptly become cool and collected. "I will take good care of our apprentice." He beckoned with his palm, directing Ezra's body until it landed safely upon a transporter.

A howl of rage tore out of Kanan's throat. It was not the way of the Jedi, it was not what he should have done, but he could _not_ let this happen to Ezra. A final surge of energy burst from Kanan's palms and at last, the rocks gave way and rolled off his body. Ignoring the bruised sensations to his limbs, Kana scrambled to his feet.

By the time he was upright and collected, he could no longer detect the presence of Ezra or Maul. The faintest sounds of a ship climbing into the sky echoed around him just before it dissolved into silence.

Kanan sank down to his knees, gravel and stone pressing hard into his skin from the impact. The hot dry air swirling around him seemed to suck the oxygen from his lungs but he did not move, could not register the discomfort around him. It was barely noticeable compared to the pain within him; of the realization that Ezra had once again been ripped out of his reach.

He had lost his master, his home, and his sight. Kanan could accept those burdens but not this terrible calamity. How many times would the Force test him until he finally broke?

" _Help me,_ _Master Bilaba,"_ he begged. " _I cannot bear this burden anymore_."

He felt as if a heavy stone had been laid over his chest and his bones would snap, releasing pain until Kanan would bleed inwardly.

A sob of frustration echoed across the brutal cliffs.

A-A-A

_Later:_

The smuggling ship known as Thundercloud had been painted nearly all black inside and out, allowing it to travel through the galaxy undetected while concealing high-demand goods from prowling eyes.

When one went through the rooms of the ship, a passenger had the feeling that he was walking on the bottom of the ocean. It was an unpleasant and dizzy experience that benefited Captain Drix and his clients who hide behind holo-screens and coded names. Drix kept the upper deck and rec room equipped with adequate lighting but he believed it was better to leave certain questions unanswered in the dark.

The dim environment was the last thing on Maul's mind. He was standing in the Thundercloud's medical bay and starring intently at the bacta tank before him. The body of Ezra Bridger hovered inside the thick green liquid. An oxygen mask had been secured over the young man's mouth and though his eyes were closed, several bubbles drifted upwards to the top of the tank.

"Why?" Maul growled. "Why isn't he healing?"

The apprentice was a Force-wielder; he should have had the potential to perform a healing trance, or at least unconsciously attend to his largest wounds. But Ezra had made little progress in the last forty-eight hours. There were fractures in his ribs and the bruised purple skin was still swollen to the touch. The medical-droid, a tiny cube-shaped computer devoid of personality, continued analyzing the patient's body and temperature without successful results.

It was as if the Force had simply turned itself off inside of Ezra and nothing more than a lump of flesh was resting in the bacta tank. This would not do.

Summoning power from within himself, Maul pressed a gloved hand to the bacta tank and willed the Force outwards in tendrils of energy. But instead of being absorbed into Ezra's body, the energy slithered away from the bacta tank and melted into oblivion. Was there not a soul within the body to absorb the will of the Force?

No, the boy's body was _rejecting_ the Force.

"Who are you, Ezra Bridger?" Maul asked softly. After a moment of deliberation he extended his fingers and carefully, with the precision of a master, reached into Ezra's subconsciousness and drew out a thread of thought. It was no finer than a strand of gossamer and had been extracted with caution and delicacy. Maul did not want the boy's mind damaged in any way.

What he saw was not bewildering but it nevertheless intrigued him. The earliest memories were of Ezra as a dark-haired toddler, playing on the sandy beach of Lothal's cove. Hugs, stories, and tender words wrapped themselves Ezra in a loving embrace from the visions bathed in golden light. The memories darkened as the toddler grew older, pretending to be asleep in his bed while eavesdropping on his parents' words of "liberty" and "speaking out".

The thoughts changed again with the clanking sound of stormtroopers' armor and a dusty cough from the bunker beneath the Bridger household. A shell quickly emerged and encased Ezra Bridger in a tiny world of self-interest as he struggled to survive. Years ran by as he light-fingering his way into satchels and pockets to steal food to survive, tried to calm himself to sleep in the lonely comm tower overlooking the city.

Then came the Jedi, his crew, and their ship. The doors to the universe flung open and though he feigned disinterest at first, Ezra was fascinated by the wonders of the Jedi. The blaze of Caleb Dume's lightsaber was a beacon and Ezra saw the light, running towards it with eager feet, and then the Ghost ship whisked him up and into the reverence of the Force.

But extracting the random thoughts and weaving them together, Maul could see the shadows growing alongside Ezra. They existed even before the curious human child had stumbled into Malachor and successfully opened up the temple doors. Now the contradicting emotions ranging from frustration and rage to tenderness and hope were so clear to Maul as sunlight through windowpanes. He could see all of the boy's trials and temptations; every step forward he gained in the Force was another step higher to fall from. There was frustration and doubt that Ezra could reach the level of his master, the fiercely protective nature towards his surrogate family, and overconfidence of a teenager who wanted the Force to do as he wished, instead of complying to its will.

There was hatred in him too, a raw vindictive emotion that Maul tasted, no doubt urged by the Sith holocron's influence on Ezra. It was hatred at himself for letting his master down (did the apprentice even know that 'Kanan Jarrus' was a lie?) and equal hatred towards Maul for taking away the Jedi Knight's sight.

It was a fascinating observation. Ezra's heart may have been that of a Jedi padawan but there was a definitive crack in it, one that the Dark Side relished and fed upon, as it swelled from his fathomless fears.

"You have been scared," Maul murmured at last. "Yet you fight on every day. How long will you resist accepting who you truly are? How much longer will you last until you finally shatter?"

The body in the bacta tank remained mute. Only the humming sounds of the medical monitors answered Maul's question.

He nodded affirmatively, resting one palm again against the smooth glass of the tank. "Do not worry my apprentice," he soothed the sleeping body. "I will make this right."

A-A-A

Captain Drix may have been an adequate smuggler but he was a superstitious idiot. Nevertheless, he was able to keep the Thundercloud off the Empire's radar by randomly dropping in and out of hyper space over the last rotation. This effective outcome made him useful to Maul and as long as he kept the captain satisfied with credits, the arrangement was working out.

However, Maul was more than mildly annoyed when Drix approached him and inquired after the boy's health. Maul responded in the negative and added that the medical droid Drix had procured had not been useful either.

"My apologies, Lord Maul." Drix carefully fingered one of several charms that hung from his leather belt. "Surely our fortunes will change when the gods smile upon us again."

"The favors of the gods cannot compare with the actions of men," Maul replied dryly. He didn't care to waste words or actions on this insignificant man who knew nothing of the Force and everything of currying to the favor of others. Captain Drix would consider the Dark Side a source of blasphemy rather than opportunity.

Realizing that his client was still unsatisfied, Drix tried a different tactic.

"Perhaps a more tangible remedy would help," he suggested. "My crew just picked up a fresh batch of girls from Beislon-"

"My apprentice does not require one of your timid whores," Maul interrupted him with a glare. He had seen the mewling drugged creatures dragged into the bottom of the ship and was disgusted with the sight of them.

" _To think that men forfeit their livelihood for a few hours of pleasur_ e," he thought grimly. " _When the the Force could offer eternal power in its place."_

"Still say we should toss the Twi'lek out of the air lock," grumbled the first mate. She was a lanky woman with long greasy dark hair pulled away from her face and tiny tattoos marching across her cheekbones. "Damn girl gives me the creeps".

"Don't be stupid, Koren," snapped Drix. "Her skin makes her worth three other girls put together."

"Not if she's a witch," Koren protested. She scratched the skin over one of her tattoos fretfully.

Maul's expression didn't change but the two smugglers detected a ripple of interest in his voice.

"Captain Drix, I would like to reconsider your offer and examine your 'girls' at once."

Kobren frowned but Drix grinned from Maul's words. "You'll be pleased, my lord. After all, what better way to warm a young man's blood then with a pretty face?"

A-A-A

_The Thundercloud, cargo hold_

The Twi'lek had each of her arms wrapped around a girl and was holding them close to her, singing softly to calm them down. Her efforts could not remove them from the hellish prison but at least it would give them a few hours of respite.

Their quiet intimate moment was interrupted when the cargo door banged open. Drix and the first mate stepped into the room, followed by Maul. Whatever fear the prisoners had for Drix was nothing compared to their dread at the sight of the horned and tattooed Zabrak who swept over them like an ominous storm cloud.

He would not be a gentle master. Whichever girl was chosen for him would endure a shameful and excruciating ordeal.

Drix marched over to the Twi'lek and kicked her in the shins. "Get up," he ordered her. "Here's a client for you."

She wearily rose to her feet and bowed her head in submission while Kobren snapped a pair of cuffs on her wrists. The first mate spun the Twi'lek around and then shoved her into Maul's face. She made no effort to struggle against Kobren and meekly submitted to the humiliating process, though Maul could detect a hint of insolence from her self-imposed silence.

He found himself looking at nearly six feet of pale blue arms and legs with long lekku trailing down her back. "She's a bit tall for my apprentice," he said at last.

"She'll compensate in other ways," Drix replied quickly. Kobren snickered at the implication and nudged her captain in the ribs.

Maul merely clasped his hands behind his back and began walking in a slow circle around the woman. Her tunic and leggings, though wrinkled from rough handling, were of good-quality material. There were no visible bruises, wounds, or tattoos on her body. This was not a slave intended to toil the mines. No, she had been reserved for ornamentation. Maul could deduce that much from appraising her figure and analyzing the aura around her.

"So this is your 'witch'," he said at last. "More like a rare flower stolen from her garden."

Gloved fingers reached out and seized the Twi'lek by the chin. Her face was jerked up, revealing sharp delicate features that appeared to have been cut from blue crystal rather than shaped from flesh. The Twil'lek was forced to look into the blazing golden eyes of the Zabrak and instantly let out a shriek.

"Your legs!" she cried out. "What's wrong with your legs?"

"Told you she was mad!" shouted the first mate.

"Silence!" thundered Maul. Everyone complied with his order. He concentrated on the Force, fingers ghosting over her face as he began drawing thoughts out of her head as easily as pulling up blades of grass. She murmured weakly in protest but could do little as Maul delved into the prisoner's mind.

"This is not a witch," he spoke aloud. Maul was disappointed. "What are you?"

A glittering Imperial city materialized in her mind, lit up by the orange light of a morning star. But there never was a Jedi temple there and so it wasn't Coruscant.

"Iolanthe," Maul said softly. "You were from Iolanthe."

Several faces of people flickered in her mind, images of beings that Maul did not recognize nor care about: several other Twi'leks, a grotesque excuse of a human, and an ornate room filled with Imperials being entertained with music. But then there was a memory of someone walking into the same room, followed by a teenage human with dark hair and blue eyes alight with the strength of the Force...

Maul's eyes flared with animation. "You know my apprentice!" he exclaimed.

The Twi'lek's eyes flickered open at once, sensing Maul's direct interest in the human boy in her mind. Where there had been fear just a moment ago, now a flicker of anger emerged forth. Maul could detect a hint of the Force, no more than a slip of energy but nevertheless noticeable, that rippled through her conscience.

 _"Leave Ezra alone!"_ her mind shouted defensively.

Maul finally released his grip on the girl. She staggered back and rubbed the side of her face.

"Miri Matoka," he pronounced her name carefully. He grinned at her, revealing gleaming white teeth. "How nice to meet you at last. You became quite close with my apprentice during his time on Iolanthe, didn't you? Your feelings for him are strong."

Miri remained quiet until Drix barked, "Answer him!"

"Yes my lord," Miri answered softly. "Ezra was very kind to me. He was kind to all of us."

"And now it is time for you to repay that kindness." He waved a hand over her wrists and the cuffs instantly broke off. Then Maul gestured for Miri to follow him. "Come, my dear. We mustn't keep my apprentice waiting any longer."

The Twi'lek followed him obediently of the room, followed by Captain Drix and Kobren.

The door slammed shut behind them. The rest of the prisoners were left to claw at each other, and their fears, in the dark.

A-A-A

Drix's crew had removed Ezra from the bacta tank and placed him into a separate bunk room. He had woken up shortly afterwards and dressed in the black cotton shirt and trousers provided for him, then proceeded to sit patiently upon the bed until his captor returned.

He did not have long to wait. Minutes after being in the cargo hold, Maul appeared in the bunk room. The teen gave him a glare but kept his lips sealed in silent defiance. Then his eyes darted to Maul's side, realizing that the darksider now carried two lightsabers clipped to his utility belt: Maul's double-bladed weapon and Ezra's own lightsaber. To the padawan, the sight of his own weapon being worn his enemy sent a ripple of frustration through him.

Maul smiled and rested a palm upon the lightsaber's hilt. "Your weapon will be returned to you in good time, apprentice."

The Zabrak glanced aside to a tray of untouched food on the table. "In the meantime you should eat something. Your body must get its strength back if it is to heal properly."

Ezra seemed to comply as he reached for the tray and picked up a tin cup of weak tea. But his expression remained tight-lipped and defiant as he calmly tipped the cup over and emptied out the contents at Maul's feet. The empty cup landed beside the spilled tea with a hollow clanking sound.

The Zabrak sighed. "I am sure that you are trying to prove something worthwhile but this will not end well if you continue to defy me."

Again, silence responded to Maul. He was inwardly annoyed and yet impressed with Ezra's response. No doubt he was taking his Jedi teachings seriously to remain this passive. However, Maul was aware of the wellspring of emotions that bubbled beneath the surface. It would take merely a few well-placed words to overturn Erza's stubbornness.

He sat down in a chair parallel to Ezra's bunk. "Listen to me. There is something crucial you must know." Maul's voice became surprisingly calm, almost gentle this time.

"Do I have a choice?" the teen finally snapped at him.

_"Excellent. Now that he is talking…"_

"For centuries the Jedi removed infants from their families and raised them in the temples," Maul began. "It was thought to be better to be away from their bloodlines so they could focus entirely on their skills without the distractions of attachments. A child at the age of five could develop superior skills far better than at his birth home."

Ezra just rolled his eyes as the Zabrak continued.

"Had you been taken to Coruscant, you would have been considered far too old to be educated. The High Council would have turned you away without a second thought. Their outdated self-serving ways destroyed them even before the Empire did. The Jedi Order could not survive in this new ever-changing galaxy and neither will you. You must rise above everything Kanan Jarrus has taught you and take control of your destiny. Otherwise you will end up defeated, dead, and forsaken."

Upon hearing the end of the speech, Ezra's eyes flashed with animation. "I'd rather die as Kanan's apprentice then live as yours!" he nearly shouted in Maul's face.

Something flashed as well in Maul's eyes; a flare of wrath that warned Ezra he had gone too far. The Zabrak's glare was a threat that could incinerate Ezra or turn him into ice. The teen saw Maul grip the handle of his lightsaber and a sliver of fear prickled within his chest.

But then Maul released his grip and the flare in his gaze died down. "Forgive me. My actions have driven you to drastic measures. I must compensate for my error."

"Try cutting off your head," Ezra suggested. He was rewarded by a soft laugh that sent an unexpected shiver down his spine.

"Amusing. But I doubt even that will defeat me," Maul smirked. "I have a gift for you."

Ezra's eyes pinched. "Another Sith holocron?"

"Something less taxing on the mind." Maul pressed a button and the door slid open. A creature in a floor-length cloak entered the room, the footsteps surprisingly light beneath the heavy fabric. Maul reached for the hood and tore the cloak away, revealing the Twi'lek in rumpled garments underneath.

Ezra's face light up with shock and bewilderment. "Where did you find her?" he demanded.

"You have the Thundercloud crew to thank for that. I understand that you know this Twi'lek from your amusing facade on Iolanthe. She isn't originally what I had in mind but she does appear docile enough." Maul reached forward and ran one gloved finger down the length of the Twi'lek's arm. Ezra watched the prisoner squeeze her eyes shut and bite her lips together.

"Send her back!" Ezra insisted. "She's got nothing to do with this!"

"After all of the trouble I went through to procure your charming friend, couldn't you be the least bit grateful?" Maul shook his head. "I supposed Captain Drix might consider a refund if someone else were to buy her. But I doubt they will treat her as well as you."

Ezra realized what the Zabrak was predicting and clenched his fists in frustration.

"My lord." The Twi'lek's timorous clear voice cut through their conversation. She turned to Maul and bowed her head. "If you would grant me some time to tend to Ezra then perhaps I can soften his heart."

Approval spread across Maul's face. "Excellent. A fine idea, my dear. See to it that my apprentice's needs are fulfilled." His eyes flickered from the Twi'lek back to the human teen. "I will leave you two to get reacquainted."

He gave Ezra one last penetrating stare over his shoulder and then exited the room, leaving the two Force-users free of outside threats for a few precious moments.

As soon as Maul was gone the Twi'lek nearly crumpled to the floor. She had been bottling up her fear and now it finally released itself in the presence of Ezra as she slumped forward, gasping for air and rubbing her shoulders as if she was freezing. "Horrible creature," she murmured to herself.

"Miri?" he hissed frantically. "What are you doing here? I thought you went to Lira San."

"I did," she admitted. Drawing closer and speaking softly, Mira related over to Ezra what had occurred since the last time when they parted ways.

Chava, the stubborn but attentive Lassat, had become Miri's teacher on Lira San and aided the Twi'lek in channeling her Force-driven abilities into healing motions. They had journeyed to a transition camp to help refugees, and allow Miri to practice her powers, when a security breach had caused a flood to smash the town into smithereens.

Separated from her mentor, Miri had been attacked and captured by Drix's men. A pretty female Twi'lek would easily fetch a high price at the slavers auction. She had been hurled into the bottom of the Thundercloud along with the other women. But Miri had been in similar situations before. Having the experience of being treated as property in her past, and now aided with the breathing patterns and mind meditations she had been taught, Miri had managed not to panic or bang on the walls in a futile effort like the other girls. She would conserve her energy and be patient for now.

Yet Miri confessed that her anxieties finally surfaced when she saw the Zabrak and felt the waves of wrath rolling off him. "I should never have doubted you when I heard him call you his 'apprentice'," she said at last. "I believed that you would never ally with such a cruel person willingly."

Ezra would have responded but a spasm wracked his torso and he gripped his chest, feeling as though daggers were puncturing through his skin. Miri offered to examine his wounds and helped Ezra to remove his shirt and the heavy bacta-bandages that the crew had wrapped around his upper body. She shook her head when she saw the damage done after the avalanche.

"I could sense Maul trying to use his power to heal me before and my body rejected his help. But I don't know why I'm not healing now," Ezra told her in frustration.

"Perhaps I could try," Miri suggested with a hint of hope in her voice. "Can you lean back for me?"

Ezra did so and then heard the sound of her low smooth voice hovering over him. "Try to relax and stay still. I'm going to see if I can reduce the inflammation in your muscles."

He closed his eyes and managed to breath in a little. Then Ezra felt the Twi'lek's warm palm smoothing over his skin, fingers gently hovering his rib-cage as they examined the multiple bones and muscles that had taken a beating. Miri allowed a small sphere of the Force to rise up and through her arm, channeling the positive energy and directing it into the bruised area where it could ease the damaged tissue. But instead of feeling the energy absorb itself into Ezra's body, she felt it melt away. She tried again, drawing the Force within herself to move outward, but again it had no effect on him.

"I don't understand," she murmured. "This didn't happen before. I'm sorry, Ezra."

"Don't be. It's not your fault," he assured her. Ezra held up a palm and studied his hand. "There's something wrong with my body. It's like the Force is hiding from me."

"But it if is hiding then it can come back, can't it?"

Ezra fumbled for an answer. "I don't know," he said at last.

The Twi'lek next to him let out a small disappointment sigh. She had managed to soothe burns and ease wounds just days ago and now her friend, who could have easily punctured a lung, could not be helped.

" _What good is the Force if I can't use it_?" Miri thought bitterly. Now they were both prisoners of a powerful dark-user and were outmatched by a crew of smugglers. Without weapons or ways to contact their friends, the odds of escaping were stacked against them. How could she assist this padawan, and herself, in such a helpless situation?

Miri's troubled thoughts were halted when she felt Ezra's palm rest upon her shoulder. Despite the obvious pain in his face, his eyes were bright with determination.

"Don't worry," he assured her in a firm warm voice. "I won't let Maul hurt you."

She starred at him with an open mouth, unable to speak for a moment. "Your ribs are cracked," Miri finally blurted out. "How in stars' sake can you even think about protecting me at a time like this?"

"At a time like what? When I don't have the Force or a lightsaber to help us? Is that what makes me useless?" he sudden snapped back. Ezra realized he had exerted too much energy and his lungs were already aching from the impact. He let out a wheeze and Miri instantly steadied him in place.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said in a gentler tone. "Please, you mustn't push yourself like that."

"I know. Stupid me," he mumbled. Ezra took a few short breaths to calm himself down.

"You are not stupid or useless," the Twi'lek insisted.

He looked at her unhappily. "I sure feel like it right now."

She glanced down at her hands and quietly said, "I know that feeling."

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, accepting the limits around them and yet not determined to give up just yet.

"What is Kanan Jarrus like?" Miri asked curiously. "As your mentor?"

Her question caused Ezra to ponder for a minute before he found the right words to express his thoughts.

"Sometimes I feel that he's holding me back from doing what I think is right," he said at last. "Other times Kanan pushes me further than I expect. I get frustrated a lot. But I know that I can trust him. And no matter how many times I mess up, he's always there to help me get back on my feet."

"He sounds like a fine teacher. What else?"

"I've never heard Kanan demand a favor from another person," Ezra realized. "It's as if he exists to help everyone around him. He's the bravest and most generous person I know."

"Like you," Miri smiled.

Ezra looked dejected. "No, I'm not like Kanan. I'm weak and selfish and…and so angry," he added quietly.

"Why would you say that?"

Slowly but steadily, Ezra told Miri about what happened on Malachor. Ahsoka Tano. The temple. The Sith Holocron.

Maul. Kanan. Blindness. Pain. Destruction.

He saw various emotions flicker over her face, gray eyes growing wide with shock and wonder as Ezra told her about the tragic journey with his friends. No doubt the graceful and gentle Twi'lek next to him would be upset to hear how Ezra's rash judgement had caused so many terrible things to happen. But Ezra didn't want to deceive her anymore. At least Miri deserved to know the truth about him.

"It was Maul who blinded Kanan, not you," she insisted at last.

"I know. And Kanan's told me that he isn't upset with me, that I should make peace with myself and move on." He lowered his head. "But it's hard, Miri. Every time I look at Kanan and I realize that he won't even be able to see a sunrise on Lothal or the stars in the sky..."

A ball of tension welled up in Ezra's throat and he couldn't finish his words. Miri allowed him the moment of reflection and then realizing that Ezra had opened up so much of himself to her, however difficult it was, had inspired her to do the same.

"You know that after the Empire conquered Ryloth I was sold as a slave," she told him. "The man who called himself my 'master' would sometimes dress me up in silk and jewels. I felt ugly and weak every time he made me come to his bedchamber."

She released a sigh and tilted her head upwards. "Running away to Iolanthe and meeting Tamar Ily'an was the best thing that happened to me. She let me pick out my own outfits and I had fun experimenting with new styles and cosmetics with Nava. So when I would get onto that stage every night, I didn't mind performing for Imperial officers. They had come to admire me and appreciate my music. I could feel myself becoming whole again."

"Is that why you and Tamar wear those nice clothes? Because it makes you feel happy?" Ezra asked. He and his crew had no use for such fripperies on a daily basis. But having worked for and with Tamar, Ezra knew how meticulous she was about her wardrobe and that of those around her.

"It inspires tenacity and also shows respect for our guests," Miri told him. "Tamar taught me that a woman cannot always control her situation but she can maintain her dignity and good qualities if she carries herself with confidence. The rest depends on other people. They can treat a woman as an object to be used or respect her as a person."

She turned to Ezra and smiled, her face surprisingly calm and content. "Many men have told me that I am beautiful. But Ezra, people like you make me believe that I really am."

Now Ezra was the one who couldn't even find words to speak. He did not have to, as the Force resonated within him with such strength and courage, urged by his will to protect her, that he would have fallen off the bunk from its impact. A burst of warmth erupted from his heart and he could feel the tendrils of energy blossoming from within the thumping organ, seeping through his body and wrapping around the injured ribs. The relief at feeling the Force coursing through him was only tempered by the realization that it was happening incredibly fast.

"What's wrong?" Miri asked.

Ezra gasped for air. "Healing-trance-" he stuttered.

His body arched backwards and his head would have smashed into the wall had Miri not caught it in her cupped hand. She assisted Ezra by resting his head back onto the pillow and making sure that his legs were stretched out before him. He had little energy to do anything else as sleep and exhaustion began to creep into Ezra. His eyelids flitted restlessly, trying to focus on her and struggling to stay awake.

"What do you need me to do?" asked Miri.

"Find...droid..." he mumbled thickly.

"Good idea. I'll find a droid to help us," she assured him. "You work on healing yourself."

His hand quickly dropped on top of hers in a final gesture of solitude. Two words flitted out between his lips just before sleep came over Ezra.

"Thank... you..."

Eyes finally closed and Ezra's head dropped aside. The healing trance had swiftly wrapped him in a protective cocoon and was tending to the damaged body better than any bacta-tank ever could.

Miri shook her head in silent disbelief. She rummaged through the various drawers until she found several thermal pads. They were older models but still worked after Miri activated the temperature buttons. From her medical studies she was aware of the risks of humans losing body heat and made sure to wrap up the thermal pads and place them around Ezra's body. Then she covered him with another blanket and made sure that he was tucked in safely.

Even while he was sleeping Ezra's expression was pensive and thoughtful, as though the healing trance was permitting his mind to reassemble his thoughts as well as his body.

"I wish you were my son," she whispered to herself.

Miri remembered the young man that Tamar had brought into their club to help along. "Kay" was prickly to them at first but quickly worked to gain Tamar's approval and then gradually warmed to Miri and her friends. In time they took a liking to him as well. She may have gotten to know Ezra by his alias but it was still Ezra Bridger's qualities, his empathy, patience, and understanding that shined like the brightest stars and made life quite lovely for several weeks.

He had been so thoughtful, so good to her and to all of them. Miri wished she could pick him up in her arms and cuddle him, shower him with love and protect him from the dark corners of the universe and its ugly secrets.

But Ezra Bridger was not a little boy any longer. He was a young man with the wanted mark of a Rebel fighter on his back and the legacy of the Jedi flowing through his veins. The Force had placed a great and terrible burden on his shoulders and he carried the weight without hesitation.

Whatever terrible things he had told her about Malachor and the Zabrak were no match for the will of the Force when it chose to shine through those few but decent people that survived in the galaxy. The fact that Ezra was here now, loyal to Kanan and defiant to Maul, proved that he would stumble and fall only to pick himself up again.

If a weaponless and wounded Jedi such as Ezra Bridger could carry on, Miri knew the least she could do was not sit idly by waiting for help. Seeing Ezra again had caused a flicker of hope to surface within Miri and she imagined it growing within her like a flame coming to life, warming and strengthening her soul.

"I _am_ afraid," she confessed aloud. "But I will be brave for both of us."

A-A-A

_Thundercloud, minor hallway detail_

The little droid known as Protocol and Operations Programmer Class E-17 had been operating on 39% capacity for nearly a decade and it was _extremely_ dissatisfying.

Had she not updated her files to include an additional 20,000 languages of various life forms in the galaxy? Had she not served in the Royal Household of Naboo under the direct supervision of her most gracious and intelligent Royal Highness Queen Jamilla? Was there not a gold seal of excellence on her binding band to distinguish POP-E17's capabilities?!

Not of this mattered to the stupid boorish criminals who had been her masters ever since the Republic had been "remodeled" into the Empire. POP-E17 knew all about the Intergalactic Empire and while the restraining bolt kept her from expressing any contradiction opinions, she had been able to safely filter out the holonet's propaganda while downloading helpful updates and keeping her hard drive intact.

Now she was expected to pick locks for the smugglers, detect oncoming Imperial ships, and wipe up their spilled vomit from nightly drinking escapades. To think she once wheeled smoothly down the elegant corridors of the Naboo palace assisting her Royal Highness in civil masters. Now POP-E17 been reduced to a scullery droid. It was but one step away from being stripped into spare parts and melted down.

She crashed into someone and reeled back, expecting a drunken slur of Basic curses from the smuggler. But instead, the droid's audio input was nearly halted from the musical feminine voice.

"I'm sorry! Are you all right?"

POP-E17 assured the Twi'lek that she was in perfect working order yet she did not anticipate the woman to kneel down beside the droid and examine her. "Class E-17", she read aloud from the binding band. "That is a high rank for a droid, isn't it? Your masters must be proud of you."

POP-E17 grumbled in response that she was no more pleased with her 'masters' then they were with her. Why was it always her fault whenever they ran low on Bomar whiskey? Why did they roar and complain at her when things went wrong?

The droid's irritation was quickly overridden by curiosity as she analyzed the Twi'lek in front of her: graceful, not in the least bit intoxicated, and with a voice pattern and mannerisms so fine and polite as to mimic that of the Queen of Naboo.

Now _this_ was more like it! By the Maker, why had it taken this long for an intelligent life form to cross her path again? The droid began chirping in excitement and offering to assist the Twi'lek in any way possible.

"Shhh! Please, can you keep it down?" the Twi'lek begged. The droid complied while her new companion (or potentially new master!) examined the corridor for any potential threats. Seeing none, she turned back to the droid. "If I can get your restraining bolt off, can you help me and my friend get away from this ship? We'll gladly take you with us if that's what you want."

POP-E17 beeped enthusiastically at the second question and then urgently signaled to where the restraining bolt was located on her metallic shell. The Twi'lek's nails struggled and fumbled with the bolt for several minutes, well-aware that such machinery could only be removed by an exterior user and were intended to keep droids from extorting unwanted personalities. Nevertheless, she persisted while the droid began to fret at the lack of protocol until a final sliver of the Force, along with Miri's frustrations, caused the bolt finally to go flying off POP-E17 and bounce off the ceiling. The small circular bolt landed on the ground with a harmless clicking sound.

The droid's optimistic levels had raised nearly 82% but then went crashing down when she realized that the Twi'lek had jeopardized her own health and safety. POP-E17 chirped fretfully when she detected blood seeping out of two injured fingers.

"It's all right. I heal fast," Miri assured the droid. She tore off part of her sleeve and quickly bandaged her bleeding fingers. "Is there an escape pod in this ship somewhere?"

The droid produced a holographic image of the Thundercloud and quickly analyzed which pods would be the easiest to access. Miri informed her about the young man who was her friend and the droid re-organized an escape strategy that would allow give the three of them the best odds. There were hidden panels beneath the floorboards that usually held concealed spice or Angorian-silk that they could move through faster than using the corridors. POP-E17 suggested that she ply the smugglers with their best wines so that they would be too intoxicated to hunt down escapees properly.

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea," Miri agreed. She told the droid where Ezra was sleeping and said that she would rejoin them shortly after searching the ship for any available handheld weapons. POP-E17 used one mechanical arm to point to a room within the holographic image.

"Captain Drix's office? Is he there now?" the Twi'lek asked cautiously. The droid confirmed that he was preoccupied with his men elsewhere and would be engrossed in counting their credits for the next several hours. That left only the matter of what would occur should they escape successfully and Miri relayed over the Ghost's signal so that POP-E17 could send out a signal to them. The droid then submitted a particular question to Miri.

"Defect? I don't see why not. The Rebellion could use all the help it can get," Miri admitted. "Though it won't be like working for Queen Jamilla at all."

As long as it wasn't working for the Thundercloud's slobs anymore then POP-E17 was more than satisfied.

"Your name is a bit too long for me to say in Basic." The Twi'lek held her chin in thought for a moment while studying the red-and-yellow droid before her. "Protocol and Operations, hmmm. How about I call you 'Poppy' for short?" she suggested. "Is that all right?"

Poppy? POP-E17 ran the name through her database. Yes, it was a suitable name. She chirped with delight when the Twi'lek rubbed the top of her dome affectionately.

"We're running low on whiskey!" Kobren bellowed down the corridor. "Where is that junk heap of a droid?"

Poppy gurgled to Miri in disgust. "You'd better do as they say before anyone gets suspicious," she told the droid. "I'm going to look in Drix's office. I'll meet you back at Ezra's room as soon as I can."

The droid whistled a response and then wheeled smoothly down the corridor. Miri headed in the opposite direction towards the office but was shortly blocked off by another member of the crew. His surprise at seeing a pretty Twi'lek before him made him grin at her with pleasure. Then he seized her tightly by the wrist.

"Come and have a drink with us," he cooed.

"I'm not thirsty," she replied coolly.

"Then come sit with us. I'll bet we can find you a nice place to make that gorgeous backside comfortable."

Miri found herself starring into his face, willing herself to narrow her gaze at him harshly just as she had watched Tamar deal with unwanted intruders and pests.

"I am busy procuring a droid for Lord Maul's apprentice," she stated in a serious tone. "Unless you want his wrath on your head, I advise you to release me."

Heart vibrating within her, she continued to stare at him until he finally relented and released her hand. "Fine," he muttered with a shrug. "More for the rest of us."

The smuggler strutted down the corridor and let out a cheer of delight when Poppy had arrived with a tray of the captain's best wines. Instantly the smugglers filled their cups and began gulping down alcohol, their shouts punctuated with cheers and roars.

A-A-A

 _"He was the color of blood, not the springing of blood of the heart but the blood that stirs under an old wound that never really healed."_ -The Last Unicorn

The first thing Miri noticed when she entered Drix's makeshift office was the row of talismans overhead. They had been suspended by leather cords from the ceiling and one of them hung so low that she had to duck her head to avoid entanglement with her lekku.

The outward display of the captain's aspirations for good fortune didn't mesh with the rest of the room. There was a banged-up metal desk surrounded by four computer screens that glowed with pale green light. Cargo crates and stuffed burlap sacks were stacked into various piles around the room. Miri suspected they held black-market items, perhaps spice pods or Kyshmeer silk...maybe even weapons?

She was unable to pry open one of the crates and quickly moved on to rummaging through Drix's desk. She hadn't discovered more than two empty drawers when a faint buzzing sound vibrated from within her ears. The Twi'lek stood up, lekku twitching as her sense attempted to tune into the soft hum of the Force. Following the buzz, Miri found herself walking backwards until she realized there were further charms and ornaments sitting upon a shelf that had been hammered into the wall.

The objects were little more than bits of glass, metal, and wood that had been decorated to resemble sacred objects. But the presentation was nevertheless effective. A nugget of brass twisted into an elaborate shape certainly looked like a talisman while the cube covered in multi-colored stones could have been passed off as a jeweled box protecting a holy relic. But as Miri stretched out a hand and let her fingers hover over each object, she could not feel or hear anything of the Force in them.

 _"Captain Drix has been taken in by quite a few frauds_ ," she thought wryly. Remembering the petrified gaunt faces of her fellow prisoners, Miri hoped that Phoenix Squadron would spare enough resources to catch the Thundercloud and shut down Drix for good.

The buzz instantly came back in her ears like a switch being snapped on. Miri nearly jumped from the sound. Then she realized her arm was straining towards an object hidden behind a carved wooden totem. She pushed the totem aside and her fingers closed around something long and circular in shape. Then she drew back her hand and pulled the item back into the green lighting.

It was a curved metal tube with alternating black and white stripes. There were small ridges protruding from one end of the tube and when she turned it over, Miri saw a red button on the side. Instincts inspired her to press the button with a thumb. Instantly, several red sparks snapped and hissed out of one end of the tube like restless coals. Miri quickly dropped the tube before she could burn her fingers.

The tube rolled away from her and landed at Maul's feet. The Twi'lek remained frozen in place like a statue, bracing herself for his judgement.

He merely glanced at the tube on the ground and then looked back up at her. Then Maul bent down, picked up the tube, and walked towards Miri. Maul only stopped when he was close enough so that she could see the thin red veins seeping out of his golden eyes. Even when Miri attempted to avert her gaze away, she could feel those eyes still boring into her head.

"Do you know what this is?" Maul asked her, extending the tube to Miri.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't," she confessed.

"Hmm." Maul calmly unscrewed the metal tube and then making a motion with his fingers, pulled it apart into two pieces as if he knew exactly how the object worked. Before Miri could protect, he reached out and took her by the wrist. One piece of the metal tube was tilted into Miri's hand and then something small and hard landed in the middle of her palm.

She found herself looking at a spiked crystal that was half the size of her smallest finger. The crystal was faded brown in color with white cracks running along two sides.

"Kyber crystals reside in the hearts of all lightsabers," he informed her. "Their energy provided the Jedi and the Sith alike with power for centuries."

He gestured with his other hand and added, "Now do you understand why Drix is such a fool? He has spent his lifetime collecting worthless trinkets and now he cannot recognize true greatness when it is before him."

Confusion and astonishment rippled through Miri. Before she knew it, her fingers were closing around the crystal and the song of the Force was humming again through her body. Despite the intimidating presence of Maul, the tiny yet powerful object against her skin was sending a thrill of wonder through her and she listened to it, closing her eyes and allowing it to sweep over her.

Something terrifying and beautiful began to materialize behind Miri's eyelids. It was the face of a woman, a young woman with skin as pale as snow and a mouth and cheekbones so sharp they seemed chiseled out of iron. Her bare scalp gave her a frigid air of immortality and the twin black markings that ran down the sides of her mouth were set in a permanent scowl. The green eyes were narrow and pointed as thorns as they glared at Miri in defiance.

One tip of the crystal bit into Miri's skin. The thin green eyes blared back at Miri and without a word, the strange woman's name came forth from her lips.

"Asajj Ventress," Miri stated aloud.

Maul's astute confidence was interrupted by her answer. He scowled as the Twi'lek opened her eyes. "This was her crystal, wasn't it? This is her lightsaber too."

For a moment he said nothing but the shadow over his face cautioned Miri that her capabilities vexed him. But then he smirked at her. "Indeed. Asajj Ventress was apprentice to Count Dooku and a worthy enemy of the Republic during the Clone Wars. A powerful Force-wielder who left a long trail of corpses across the universe." He let out a thin eerie chuckle. "But not powerful enough."

"You knew her?"

"I did indeed. It was Ventress and her clan of the Nightsisters that twisted my brother into a weapon for their personal use. We dueled and may have defeated her if not for..."

His voice trailed off and darkened into somewhere that Miri did not dare venture.

"Well, it does not matter now," he said at last.

Miri swallowed to get her mouth moving again. "What happened to her?"

He shrugged carelessly. "The rumors were swallowed up when the Empire replaced the Republic. Some say Asajj Ventress was rejected by her master and considered useless to the Sith. Others say she allied herself with a Jedi and eventually grew feelings for him." Seeing Miri's surprise at this information, Maul nodded slowly. "Her affection was Ventress' downfall when she sacrificed her life for the Jedi."

"I'm sorry to hear it."

The golden eyes flared again and this time Miri tilted her head down all the way. Somehow she found her hand sliding into her pocket, the crystal resting itself securely in a corner of the fabric.

Maul's attention pivoted from the story he had told her to Miri's presence. "Now that I have given you an instruction in history you must tell me why you are here and not attending to my apprentice," he chided her.

"I was looking for a droid," she answered him.

"And did you expect Drix to be hiding one in his desk?" His voice was high and thin with irritation when he posed the question.

Nausea flooded Miri's nostrils. "I'll go back to Ezra right away," she blurted out. She stepped forward and past Maul, eager to get away from him and avoiding further contact.

Miri began walking quickly towards the door when she felt a painful jerk in her spine, as though an invisible power had hooked itself into her and was reeling her backwards. She dug her feet into the ground but the effort was futile as a wave of the Force, stubborn as a mountain, sent her back against the wall and slamming against the metal plates. Her wrists and ankles were pinned in place and no matter how hard she struggled, Miri could do little but twist her head in tiny jerking movements.

Maul slowly advanced towards her, mechanical footsteps going _clomp-clomp_ heavily against the ground, until he was face-to-face with the Twi'lek.

"Please, let me go!" she begged. "Ezra needs me!"

"Does he now? Because I just examined my apprentice in his quarters and have confirmed that his healing trance is coming along effectively. Your actions are commendable."

"Then why are you keeping me here?"

The Zabrak merely touched his fingers to his chin in thought. "I have encountered many Force-wielders in my life and your presence here is an unusual one at that. You require a bit of...examination." The sensation of his eyes sweeping over her body made Miri feel violated, as if he was already removing her clothes against her will. Her stomach churned with disgust.

Maul grinned at the woman's mortified expression. "Make no mistake about my intentions," he assured her. "I have never had the desire for a woman nor do I require one now. I am intrigued to know why men would make such a fuss to spend time with you. Perhaps you could enlighten me?"

Miri pressed her lips together and shook her head. "No?" the Zabrak confirmed in a mocking voice. "Come now, there is no need to play the role of a pure innocent girl. I have seen inside your mind and I know what things you did in the dark, what whispers were exchanged between you and your former master."

Seeing her mortified look, a slow smile spread across his face. Teeth flashed in his face, clear and white against his blood-red skin. He pressed two fingers to her forehead and a cry burst from Miri's throat from the thin blade of energy that sliced into her conscience, probing into her deepest fears.

"So that is it," Maul murmured. "Your former master….the Twi'lek known as Tamar…and my apprentice. All people with power. You felt safe with them, didn't you? You drew close to them because you knew they could protect you...because you have no power of your own."

"Please." Miri knew it was no use to beg to this merciless being but it was all could do from going mad. " _Please_."

She squeezed her eyes shut but could not block out the sensation as his bare skin slid across her own, cool and dry like the scales of a snake. Fingers expertly glided over her forehead, taking their time to trace the features of her face, mapping out her cheekbones and chin. One finger continued the investigation as it trailed down her neck and rested upon a sensitive spot just below her right ear.

" _Get out, get out, get out,_ " Miri's thoughts repeated in a hysterical mantra. Maul's voice responded in a tone so soft and smooth she could sink into it, so disarming that it seemed to echo inside her head as he proceeded.

"Even when you were a bedslave you felt safe. Do not deny it, my dear. As much as you loathe yourself for what you did, you actually enjoyed being in the arms of your master."

"No!" a thin cry swelled up within her.

The faint dry chuckle responded. "Your feelings do not lie."

The tears swelled up behind her shut eyes as the cold facts rose to the surface. Unable to resist, sickened and defeated by the truth, Miri's head nodded in weak agreement. "Yes," she heard herself say in a tiny squeak.

Her answer pleased Maul, who seized her face with his hand and guided it back to him. Her lids remained shut, unable to look him in the eyes, as he taunted her.

"How sensible of you, Miri Matoka. I knew you would learn to accept the truth. Did you really think that Ezra Bridger could feel anything but pity for a creature like you? I have seen into his heart and it is already mine."

"No..." she whispered.

"Oh yes. Listen well, daughter of Ryloth." The sinister voice vibrated from within her head. "The young man you admire and care for has already tasted the darkness. Eventually, it will empower him with everything he desires. His heart will become as flawless and hard as crystal and then he will kneel down and serve me, _only_ me. He will not have any use for his former friends…"

Miri could barely breath as the voice slithered around her, sucking up her thoughts. She felt her head being jerked painfully back as Maul's gaze hung over her, hatred and malevolence dripping from his words.

"Why would you even be worthy of the Force? You are nothing more than a weak foolish whore."

The final word dropped into her stomach and let out an echo that vibrated through the Twi'lek. The waves of the Force rippling off Maul were sending shockwaves into her, causing her thoughts to meld and remold into memories of her past. She imagined herself not in the Thundercloud being held against her will but back on Iolanthe, looking a disgusting man in the face and holding her ground as she rebuffed him. _"I am not a whore,"_ she told him.

There was Ezra Bridger by her side, taking a bold stance in front of her and not caring how the rude man looked down upon him. Ezra Bridger, leaning against a wall next to Miri as they enjoyed their vendor snacks and chatted freely together.

The padawan's face, sad yet determined, flickered before her. The thought of him being twisted into Maul's puppet was something she could not bear. _"You're an amazing musician,"_ he had told her. _"You shouldn't let what other people say get you down."_

Tamar. Beautiful, brave, confident Tamar telling Miri that she could turn a roomful of Imperial officers into a stunned audience if she just got on that stage and she did so, delighting Tamar with thunderous applause. No-nonsense Tamar who let down her guard enough to tell Miri, " _You're ten times nicer than all of them_."

" _It is **not** stronger!" _ Chava nearly bellowed. _"Remember your lessons. It has only changed form as it resonates within you. The more you feed into your doubt, the more difficult it will be to resist the Bogard. But pour your energy into the Ashla and the Bogard will grow smaller within you."_

Maul must have sense Miri delving into her self because he tightened his grip on her face, shaking it madly. "You are nothing! The Force is nothing to you!" he shouted.

Her teeth knocked against each other as a woman's voice, tight and irritated, swelling up inside of her.

 _"You stupid girl,"_ the voice of Asajj Ventress hissed. " _Are you going to sit here like some dumb animal and be disgraced at the hands of half a man? You might as well smash my kyber crystal and let Drix and his men bed you from one end of the galaxy to the other. Or else use the Force within you and stand up to him. Fight back or die here!"  
_

A single heartbeat vibrated within Miri's chest, pulsating to every vein and drop of blood in her body. She opened her eyes and saw the taunting burning golden gaze of the Zabrak who was feasting upon her nightmares.

She did not want to be helpless any longer. To do right by herself, Miri would have to open herself to the Force unlike ever before. She let another heartbeat saturate her being and then forced herself to stare fully into Maul's eyes, calling upon the Force within her to look beyond his tattooed face.

The Force responded and flitted across Miri's brain, redirecting her thoughts and reassembling her sight until she was seeing not a person but thousands of tiny lines running through Maul's body. Channels of positive and negative energy streamed before Miri in a dizzying web of motion revealing blood cells, veins, pressure points, and brainwaves. She took in another breath as the Force guided her, showing which channels could be pushed and pulled, tested and manipulated.

Fight.

Summoning forth a glowing orb of energy, she let it rush up her body and through her arms. Maul's grip on her began to weaken as he was momentarily distracted from what she was doing. Miri's wrists broke free and she instantly lifted them up and slammed them against Maul's temples, ignoring the barbed pain of his horns gashing against her skin and concentrating on driving the energy into his body. The channels of Force-driven power streamed from the Twi'lek's palms into Maul's body, blocking pressure points and breaking open channels of pain and distortion.

He reeled back, clutching his face with both hands and howling away from the Force that was causing his organs and veins to throb with aggrivation. The grip on Miri's limbs melted away and she flexed her muscles to regain strength. Knowing every second counted, her hand lashed out and she snatched Ezra's lightsaber off Maul's belt. As her fingers closed around the lightsaber, a surge of confidence rushed through Miri.

With her right hand holding her friend's weapon and Ventress' crystal tumbling around in her pocket, the Twi'lek raced out the door and down the corridor, yelling for Poppy as loud as she could. A single command repeated in time to the sound of her feet slapping restlessly against the Thundercloud's plates, a command she knew too well for surviving the wrath of the Empire.

 _Run_.

A-A-A

 

Poppy decreased her audio speakers to minimum sound and avoided the central hallways to prevent colliding with other members of the Thundercloud. Her efforts paid off when she wheeled herself into the designated room where the Twi'lek's human ally was sleeping.

The sight of a person who was not snoring away on alcohol-laced breath was a relief to Poppy. She had not been engineered as a medical droid and so diligently downloaded standard health procedures and ran them through her hard drive.

Once the medical files had been successfully updated, Poppy ran diagnostics on the human: breathing patterns, heart rate, levels of adrenaline and endorphins. Yes, everything was satisfactory. Poppy continued for the next five minutes until her programming detected something unusual.

The human's health rate was climbing at a surprisingly rapid pace.

Poppy switched to a more extensive blood examination and again, the data flared up like a cog whirling twice as face as its counterparts. The test results of his C-reactive protein confirmed that he _was_ improving at an accelerated rate. Judging by the shrinking fractures of his upper ribs, it should have taken several weeks to restore them to proper functions.

Poppy's drive grew hot with aggravation as she ran the results back and forth, attempting to pinpoint the source of the human's rapid progress. Surely a droid of Class E-17 should find the reason for this phenomenon, if not the most likely scientific reason behind this bizarre circumstance. She was prepared to investigate further when a crackle of static erupted from the transmission box on the wall.

 _"Poppy! Poppy, are you there!?_ Miri's frantic voice came through the speakers. Poppy began to explain the human's situation but Miri cut her off.

" _I'm heading in your direction! Cut off the power in the third level, second sector!"_ There was another agitated crackle and then the transmission ended.

Yes, yes of course. If Poppy was a human she would have chastised herself for incompetence. The Twi'lek's tone was obviously one of impending danger; Poppy would have to set aside her attention on the boy and use her skills to assist the Twi'lek. Plugging an activation wand into the Thundercloud's computer, Poppy was relieved at how much easier it was to access the security programs without a restraining bolt.

Several green lights on the monitor screens quickly flicked to red, confirming that the doors were being shut. But in order to reach them, the Twi'lek would have to keep the fourth sector open. Poppy quickly wrote a temporary operating code and slipped it into the Thundercloud's system to insure that the doors would not seal the Twi'lek off from them.

Only now did she turn back to the human and reexamine the situation. If the Twi'lek would be arriving in approximately four to six minutes then Poppy would have to use that time to wake him up. She started with a small poke to his shoulder but he did not move. Then she prodded his arm with more force but again, there was no response. Frustration increasing, Poppy finally reached out with one mechanical arm and joggled him so that his entire frame shook on the mattress.

Zero percent response! Poppy grumbled in frustration. There had to be some way of contacting this human. She scanned the medical program for alternative methods. One solution that popped up nearly caused her to fry a circuit.

It was _not_ protocol. It was simply and utterly less than 0% appropriate! The solution persisted in stating that certain sensitive parts of the human anatomy could trigger a wake-up if aggravated properly.

Poppy was extremely reluctant to follow the procedure. What if she erroneously damaged his anatomy to the point where he would no longer be able to procure? But the Twi'lek's current state of safety was in jeopardy!

Poppy maneuvered over to the aquatic-casket and filled a cup of water, steadying herself to dump it all over his head. She was unable to proceed because the human boy's head began to move from side to side and then there was a small but distinct groan coming out of his lips. Thank the Maker that she would not have to harm him!

The human appeared groggy and confused while she delivered a brief diagnostic to him. While the damage to the muscles and bones had decreased significantly, he was showing signs of fatigue and exhaustion.

"Who are you?" Ezra asked. Poppy eagerly rattled off a list of her credentials but he cut her short. "I'm sure the queen was a great leader but we need to find Miri," he explained. Poppy gurgled in agreement.

Ezra placed his feet on the ground and began to stand up on shaky legs. Though his chest felt indefinitely better than it had several hours ago, his limbs felt rubbery. The healing trance must have tapped energy from all over his body and infused it into his ribs to reduce the fractures.

He took a clumsy step forward. Noticing his lack of coordination, Poppy rushed hastily in front of Ezra in an attempt to help him. But her attentions were not synchronized with the laws of physics and unable to retreat in time, Poppy collided into his kneecaps.

"Woah!" Ezra shouted. Both padawan and droid went crashing to the ground in a mess of limbs and mechanical parts.

Poppy chirped unhappily. She predicted there was a 94% chance that she would be stripped of her E-17 badge for lack of proficiency.

A-A-A

_Thundercloud, lower deck_

"Seal off the gates!" Maul shouted into his comm-link. "Don't let her get away!"

" _We won't let that happen,"_ one of the crew sniggered into the comm. Maul looked up and allowed himself a small grin as the doors began to slam shut, one-by-one blocking Miri's escape route. He ignited his lightsaber and walked slowly towards the nearest tunnel, sensing the faint but detectable aura of the Force that flitted from Miri like a trail of stardust.

Several tunnels away, Miri nearly lost her nose when the doors collided together in front of her. "No!" she shrieked. The Twi'lek began clawing and scraping at the door in an attempt to pry it back open. But the cold steel remained relentlessly closed.

 _"What do I do? What do I do_?" she thought frantically. Her hand instinctively dug into her pocket and seized the cracked crystal for support. Miri began to draw short thin breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to think of a solution as adrenaline pumped through her.

" _Have to get away from Maul. Have to save Ezra."_

A flare of heat erupted from between Miri's fingers, causing her to yank her hand out of her pocket. Within seconds the crystal had become hot to the touch as if packed with the strength of ten thermal pads. She could feel its energy flaring within the pocket yet it hadn't burnt a hole through the fabric.

Uncertain what it meant, the effect did give Miri an idea. She fumbled with Ezra's powered-down lightsaber and then managed to hold it up and push it against the activation keypad on the wall. Then she ignited the weapon, sending a blast of green energy into the ship's computer and frying the door circuits. The smell of burnt wires filled Miri's nose as she wrenched the doors apart and continued running, finally skidding to a halt when she came back into Ezra's room.

Poppy was using a mechanical arm to get Ezra back on his feet. He must have benefited from sleeping but there were still dark circles under his eyes and his face was lined with fatigued.

"Hey," he smiled weakly.

"What are you doing up?" she asked, also helping Ezra to steady himself.

"Healing trance stopped," he muttered. "Feel better but I'm wiped out."

Miri's fingers lightly touched Ezra's forehead for a moment. "I wish we had more time but Maul and his men are coming for us. We have to go now!" She handed Ezra his lightsaber and added, "I hope this helps."

Animation grew back in Ezra's eyes when he saw his weapon. "You got it back!" he exclaimed, reaching out and clasping the lightsaber in his palm.

He ignited the blade and Miri was certain that some color had restored to his face as emerald light bounced around the tiny room. Ezra lowered his lightsaber to the floor, ready to carve out an escape route, when realization flickered across his face and he stopped what he was doing.

"What is it?" Miri asked.

He shook his head. "If we leave a trail like this it'll be too easy for Maul to follow us." Ezra snapped off the lightsaber and clipped it to his belt. "Poppy, where's the nearest hatch floor door?"

The droid responded that there was one in the cooling chamber in the room next to them. They slipped inside and immediately the damp clammy air climbed into Ezra's lungs. He stifled a cough as Poppy directed him to several metal plates nailed into the floor.

"Good work, Poppy!"

Motivated by his compliment, the droid cautiously removed the screws and Miri lifted the metal plates up. Ezra tried to help Miri get Poppy down into the tunnel but she insisted that he conserve his energy. She managed to lift Poppy into the tunnel though the droid landed with a distinct _THUMP_. Ezra winced and expected someone to hear them.

On cue, Drix's raspy voice came through the speakers. _"This is Captain Drix speaking. We have rogue cargo moving around the lower sector. Fifty credits to the one who finds her first."_

 _"That 'cargo' has a name,"_ Ezra thought angrily.

He placed both palms on the damp metal plates and slipped his body down into the tunnel, then carefully replaces the plates over his head. One brief ignition of the lightsaber in each of the corners of the plates would cause them to melt and then seal themselves tightly. Ezra hoped their disappearance would be discreet enough to buy some extra time.

He found himself crawling on hands and knees inside the tunnel just behind Miri while Poppy wheeled on ahead, guiding them towards the escape pods. The air had the brittle smell of rusty pipes and recycled air but at least he could breathe.

"How soon until we can send out a distress signal?" he asked Poppy.

The droid explained that even without her restraining bolt, the Thundercloud could still attempt to track Poppy's location. She had the Ghost's codes prepared but could not safely send out a longer-range signal until they were out of the Thundercloud.

Miri kept scrambling ahead until she felt Ezra yank her on the shoulder. "Stop!" he whispered urgently. "Don't move."

"But we have to keep going," she protested.

He shook his head fiercely and put a finger to his lips. Then Ezra pointed overhead. Through the dim lighting, Miri could see his eyes glowing with caution and realized he sensed danger. She whispered for Poppy to cease all communications. The three escapees remained motionless in the tunnel, listening to the hisses and creaks of the Thundercloud's systems.

A muffled sound was heard overhead. Then it grew louder and clearer as it continued repeating the same word over and over again: _"NO! NO! NO!"_

Maul had no doubt reached the bunk room and discovered the disappearance of his "apprentice". Ezra's thoughts solidified into facts as the distinct impact of droid legs pounding across metal flooring became more audible. The padawn lowered his head and kept his limbs frozen in place, barely allowing himself to inhale oxygen lest the slightest movement betray them all.

Through the Force he could feel the shock waves of Maul's presence as he strode through the Thundercloud. The scrambling of further legs confirmed members of the crew were close by Maul. Ezra could almost smell the energy crackling from dual crystals from Maul's double-bladed lightsaber as he waved around.

A blood-curdling roar resonated over Ezra's head and sent a shudder through his bones.

"Kill the Twi'lek," Maul thundered. "But I want the boy alive!"

One smuggler made the error of opening his mouth. "But the captain said-"

_SGGGNGGG!_

Ezra clutched his chest, feeling the Dark Side claw at him as he heard the flaming lightsaber slash through the man's flesh.

"Your captain's orders are to satisfy _my_ orders," Maul warned the other crew members. They complied in silent and terrified agreement, taking up arms and moving through the tunnels. The Zabrak let out a growl like an aggravated animal. Then he closed his eyes, releasing himself to the Force and guiding himself with the strand of subconscious he had extracted several hours ago.

" _Ezra_ ," the Dark Sider thought.

The word resonated within Ezra's ears. Miri glanced towards Ezra, who had his eyes shut and was immobilized in place. She dared not speak or reach out to him as he struggled with the phantom's voice that had seeped its way into his mind.

 _"You cannot escape me,"_ Maul warned him. _"I will find you."_

"Never," Ezra whispered hoarsely. Instantly he realized his error; reacting to Maul's words was a beacon beckoning the Zabrak to find them.

He could feel the soft shakes of laughter, a playful response to Ezra's defiance. _"Brave young Jedi."_ A hint of mockery laced Maul's words. _"And just as honorable. If you surrender yourself now and beg for forgiveness, I may even spare the Twi'lek's life."_

Ezra dared to draw in one breath longer and louder than the first. Behind closed lids, he willed himself to imagine that it was not Maul's voice but that of Kanan; he would envision his mentor was there in the tunnel and guiding Ezra from over his shoulder.

" _Go inward_ ," Kanan was advising him. " _Feel the air entering and leaving your lungs. Let the Force empty itself into you."_

Maul's glowing eyes still lingered behind Ezra's eyelids but as the padawan let the Force shift through him, the Dark Sider's glare began to ebb away like the fading glimmer of an old ember. Ezra mentally reached out to the Force as it swept over him in a smooth blanket, muffling the thoughts in his head.

Maul must have realized that his connection to Ezra was weakening because he let out a snort of defeat. Ezra remained locked inside the Force, keeping his thoughts slow and quiet, until he could no longer detect the Zabrak near him. Sure enough, the sound of Maul's metal feet was fading away into the distance. His lungs deflated with relief and his limbs relaxed. Ezra allowed himself a moment to wipe his wrist across his forehead and he realized his skin was clammy to the touch.

The trio remained in agonizing silence until Ezra tugged on Miri's sleeve and nodded for them to keep going forward. They moved on without speaking, keeping their movements as quiet as possible.

Poppy's update interrupted them with a sharp _beep_. Fortunately, she knew they were close to one of the escape pods. Once safely detached from the Thundercloud, she would be able to signal the Ghost.

Miri nodded, careful to select minimum words for conversation. "Track the Thundercloud?" she whispered. "Other rebels stop them."

One mechanical arm extended forward, revealing the restraining bolt that Poppy had stashed away in a compartment for some other use.

Ezra nodded and managed faint grin.

A-A-A

_Thundercloud, control room_

The crew was still shaking off the aftermath of their hangovers when Maul strode into the room. His intimidating presence sobered Drix up quickly and he rushed to the Zabrak's side.

"They won't get far," he assured Maul. "We've sealed off all the necessary decks. Even by some unfortunate odds they get off this ship, there's nothing in this space sector but a few lifeless moons-"

A single glare from the Zabrak motivated Drix to hold his tongue.

Kobren adjusted several controls on the monitor. "POP-E17, where the hell are you?" she snapped. "We have two escapees on the loose! Report at once!"

A chattering response came over the speakers. "Did I say to count our cargo right now? I said locate the escapees or I'll throw you into the incinerator myself!" Kobren shouted.

Poppy confirmed, apologized for a lengthy amount of time, and suggested that the wanted creatures could be hiding above the engine room. Two smugglers left Drix long enough to examine the engine room while Kobren's fingers flew over the controls.

"Captain, one of the escape pods has been activated."

"Shut it down," Drix ordered her.

"Computer, override code 2HVO!" Kobren demanded. Her request was denied. One button switched from green to blue, indicating that one the pods had been activated and was detaching itself from the Thundercloud. Kobren slammed her fingers against other buttons but she was unable to retract the computer's command.

Maul glanced up through the windows to see an escape pod flit past the Thundercloud. The small bullet-shaped pod sliced smoothly across the emptiness of space and then began to steer into a curved navigation downward, towards one of the barren moons in the distance.

Before he could speak, a fireball flared past the window and hit the side of the escape pod. Its smooth trajectory had become shaky as a trail of smoke followed the pod that was jerkily heading towards the moon.

Maul turned on Drix. "Did I give you permission to fire?" he demanded.

The captain frowned in response. "You wanted them caught, didn't you?"

Maul's voice trembled with barely-restrained rage as he declared, "My apprentice is in that escape pod."

Drix opened his mouth to explain but Maul's patience had reached an end. The Thundercloud's captain had outlived his usefulness.

The rest of the crew saw Maul's crimson blade strike through the air with alarming grace. In one swift stroke, Drix's head was knocked off his body. It rolled four times before landing at the control panel while the rest of the corpse folded itself over at Maul's feet. Not even a drop of blood stained the Thundercloud's flooring from the Zabrak's precise attack.

The stunned smugglers starred in horror at their former captain Then Kobren's senses kicked in and she doubled over, vomiting on the floor.

Maul strode over and seized her by the scruff of her neck. "Get up," he hissed. Kobren was yanked back to her feet. "You are now the captain of the Thundercloud. I hope you will not make the same errors as your predecessor."

The crimson blade hummed and sizzled below Kobren's chin. She shook her head frantically at Maul in compliance. Only then did he draw his lightsaber away from her throat.

"You will provide me with your fastest shuttle and project a course for it down to that moon," he commanded.

Kobren nodded her head quickly. "W-will you require anything else?"

"No." He waved a hand in her direction carelessly. "Take your ship and leave. The Thundercloud has nothing else that I require."

She hastily punched in the codes and pointed to where Drix's private shuttle was waiting. As soon as the Zabrak had left the room, Kobren wiped up her rancid mouth and ordered the rest of the crew to prepare for hyperspace. The sight of the shuttle leaving the Thundercloud filled Kobren with relief. She would never allow herself to take on such a despicable client as Drix had.

 _"I swear I'll do better than him,_ " she thought grimly. As the Thundercloud's engines roared to life, Kobren's confidence began to return. She had inherited Drix's ship and his wares, save for one pesky Twi'lek, an unconscious human, and the insane Zabrak. All that was left to do was sell the cargo by the next rotation and that would not be difficult at all. The Thundercloud's had other clients who were just as credit-happy and twice as hungry for female flesh.

"Punch it," she ordered the first mate. He slammed down the lever and the Thundercloud blasted forward into space, tearing through stars and comets as fast as Kobren allowed.

The ship hadn't been sailing forward for more than half an hour when it gave an unexpected lurch sideways, yanking the Thundercloud out of hyperspace. Kobren seized the control panels to avoid falling out of her seat.

"What's going on? These are not our coordinates!" Kobren shouted.

"I don't know Ko-Captain," one smuggler stammered. "Our navigation course must have been altered."

Had Kobren known that Poppy had left her ex-masters a parting gift, she would have ripped the droid apart cog by cog. But she did not know that Ezra had advised Poppy to solder her restraining bolt into the navigation system, scrambling the Thundercloud's cloaking techniques while a relentless signal flared up like a beacon for Phoenix Squadron to find.

Now all Kobren could do was glare at the Pelta-class frigate and several A-wings that had dropped out of hyperspace and encircled the Thundercloud.

Two shoots flared out of one ship and hit the Thundercloud squarely on the right, one causing the deck to shake and another sending the engines into disarray.

"We're hit!" someone told Kobren.

"I know we're hit, you empty-headed moron!" she snarled. "Direct power to emergency backup!"

A sonic canon collided with the Thundercloud's underbelly and Kobren nearly banged her head into the controls from the impact. _"If these mudrackers damage any of our cargo we'll lose everything,"_ she thought furiously.

"Directing power to backup but we're still outnumbered," the first mate warned Kobren.

She was ready to punch him in the face when the transmission button flared on the computer. Kobren jammed a finger onto the button.

 _"Thundercloud, you are outgunned and your engines have taken severe damage."_ A professional male voice came through the speakers. _"Surrender now and prepare to be boarded."_

"Who is this?" Kobren demanded.

_"This is Commander Jun Sato of the Rebel Alliance. If you cooperate immediately, you and your crew will not be harmed further. We will provide you with medical attention if necessary."_

"Rebel Alliance!?" she sneered. "You have no authority to seize my ship. Nor do I take orders from self-righteous renegades."

She strapped a blaster to her thigh and raced down the hallway, ready to blast Sato's head off. The frigate had just landed beside the Thundercloud and attached itself, preparing to board. Already two members of the crew had surrendered when they found themselves surrounded by several rebels, all sober and armed to the teeth. The smugglers were quickly handcuffed and placed on their knees while the rebels moved quickly and professionally around the ship, securing rooms and examining the Thundercloud's stolen cargo.

The clearing of a throat caused Kobren to whirl around. Her eyes came level to the blasters held by Commander Sato and Hera Syndulla.

"I advise you not to do anything rash," Sato cautioned her.

Kobren's hand came to the blaster she had strapped around her thigh but Hera shook her head. "Put it down," she ordered Kobren. The woman glared daggers as she drew out her blaster and shoved it in Hera's face. The captain of the Ghost accepted her weapon and clipped it to her own belt.

"Captain Syndulla, we've found at least three dozen prisoners in the cargo hold," one rebel informed her.

Sato frowned at Kobren. "Prisoners?" he demanded. "Or slaves?"

"What's it to you?" Kobren demanded. "You 'rebels' have no authority to invade this private vessel. You're nothing better than a bunch of pirate wannabees. When the Empire finds you-"

"-what they won't know won't hurt them," Hera cut her off. The Twi'lek's eyes narrowed angrily at Kobren. "How many of those girls were you going to sell to the Hutts? Or would they be exiled to farming planets and shared among the locals?"

Kobren gave Hera a thin icy smile. "Why don't you come along for the ride, sister? Looks like you've got the right 'package' for our clients. They just can't wait to get you out of that jumpsuit and into-"

Hera's fist struck out and she punched Kobren squarely in the nose. The smuggler staggered backwards with her hands clasped over her bleeding face.

"My apologies, commander." Hera shook her aching hand.

"Apology unnecessary." He gestured to two rebels who had Kobren on her feet and her wrists bound together. To the short-termed captain of the Thundercloud he proceeded, "You will stand trial before the Alliance on charges of kidnapping, enslavement of civilians, and illegal operations. Should you refuse to cooperate, you will be sentenced to permanent exile in the Outer Rim."

Kobren's blood-stained face turned pale from his judgement. "You can't do that! You have no authority over me!" she screeched. "What the hell am I going to do to survive in the Outer Rim?"

The commander responded with a stern glare. "You had no dilemma bargaining with the lives of civilians. I am confident that you will able to provide for yourself somehow."

Kobren gnashed her teeth and lunged for Commander Sato. She was seized back by both rebels who proceeded to drag her away. "Ingrates! Idiots!" she screamed. "You wouldn't dare lay hands on the Thundercloud!" Her howls echoed down the corridor as she was removed from the bridge and transferred into a containment cell.

It was with no little relief to Commander Sato when the rest of the crew cooperated and allowed the rebels to transfer them to holding cells.

"It will take some time to return those girls home," Sato informed Hera. "But this ship could be a useful asset to our cause."

"Has anyone seen Ezra yet?" she asked him.

Sato shook his head. "My team has searched the ship and found no sign of him."

"But he was here," Hera insisted. "I picked up his distress signal just before the Thundercloud jumped into hyperspace."

The commander rubbed his jawline in thought. "If your droid can access the navigation computer, he may be able to retrace the Thundercloud's travel log and last coordinates."

Hera had barely opened her mouth when Chopper wheeled into the room and gave her an affectionate gurgle.

"And just how long were you standing outside?" she demanded. The droid's answer weighed upon his confirmation that the pesky "Kobren virus" had been safely removed.

"Well, now I need you to find out what the Thundercloud's last location was," Hera insisted. Beeping in agreement, Chopper approached the computer and plugged himself into Thundercloud's computer to retrieve answers. While he was tracing locations, Hera keyed in some codes and listened to the previous recordings of the Thundercloud's intercom system.

"What else are you hoping to find out?" Sato asked her.

"I'm not sure," Hera admitted. "But anything else we can find leading us to Ezra could cut our rescue time down drastically."

After several moments of quiet observation, Hera's poised confident expression turned to fear. Her green eyes flared up with horror as Maul's voice came in through the speakers.

_"Kill the Twi'lek! But I want the boy alive!"_

A-A-A

_Uncatalogued former Republic farming moon, Sector 490 of the Mid-Rim_

The cybernetic legs had been bestowed unto Maul as a parting gift from Mother Talzin, the skillful patron of the Nightsisters who had refashioned flesh and blood into useful tools beneath her expertise hands.

They were a constant reminder of his heritage ties to Dathomir and Maul's ongoing vengeance against the Jedi who had caused his downfall. Stronger than his organic limbs had ever been and incapable of succumbing to disease, the legs served Maul well as he raced across the surface of the moon. They could not feel the brittle stalks of dried grass scraping against him or ache with fatigue as he urged himself on mile after mile.

Mother Talzin's final present had served him well. It was his ambition that Ezra Bridger would do no less.

Maul stopped running long enough to gaze up at the sky. His shuttle had been orbiting the moon when he had seen the damaged escape pod attempt to touch down without collision. Now the Zabrak could see wisps of smoke in the far-off distance, a fading beacon that his goal was soon within his grasp. He dug his heels into the ground and spurned himself onward. A cold dry breeze blew traces of scorched earth and seared metal into his nostrils. He was getting closer.

Leaping over a mound of dirt, he came to a halt before the wreckage of the escape pod. The exterior had been bent and twisted up. The door had caught fire some time ago and the wind was already blowing hard enough to put whatever flames were left to rest. Maul approached the pod and wrenched the door off with a single stroke.

It was empty and the interior appeared none of for the worst. That was fortunate; the shell had protected the contents from the impact of their collision.

He knelt down to examine several dark spots that stood out against the pale grass. Maul reached out and touched the sticky liquid, running fingertips together. Was it the blood of a Twi'lek or a human?

The wind had blown down long enough for him to hear the chattering sound of a droid. Instantly he was on his feet and dashing to the source of the noise. Maul did not have far to go. He had run a quarter mile south of the damaged pod when he saw three figures hobbling across the splintered grass. The smallest was the droid; the one in the middle and the tallest appeared to be leaning on each other for support.

"Hera's got it," Ezra stammered. "Gotta pick up Poppy's signal. Gotta keep moving..."

"Shhh," the woman beside him assured him. "We will, Ezra. You must save your energy."

A blast of the Force wrenched them apart. Ezra fell back unharmed onto the grass but Miri was sent sprawling several feet away. Both looked up to see Maul approaching them, weapon ignited in his hand. One tip of the lightsaber trailed along the withered ground, causing the reeds to burst into flames and bleed a trail of fire behind Maul. He stopped just short of both escapees, his dark profile lit up by the orange glow behind him. Flickering flames made the tattoos on his skin writhe with delight.

Miri saw Ezra's lightsaber had come off from the impact and was lying nearby. She seized it in both hands and scrambling to her feet, ignited the button on its side. A spray of green light burst forward, cool and faint, against the wall of fire surrounding the Zabrak. Maul observed her with aloofness; she was no match for him.

Miri swung the lightsaber around once and then pointed it at Maul. "Don't come near him!" she screamed.

One palm moved through the air and Miri was hoisted upwards. The lightsaber fell out of her hand and landed back on the ground. She clawed at her throat for air as Maul's grip tightened on her.

"You have tormented me long enough," he declared. "I will see to it that this field will be your tomb."

His concentration on her was distracted momentarily by the sight of Ezra struggle to his knees. The apprentice attempted to reach out to his lightsaber but his own energy had been nearly all tapped out. The healing trance had been enough and using whatever energy was left he had saved in bracing them from the pod's crash. Now Ezra was barely able to keep himself conscience, only fueled by adrenaline and frenzy against the trap closing in around them.

"Please," Ezra begged. His eyes glimmered like faint stars against the fire. "Please, stop!"

The sound of Ezra begging nearly broke Miri's heart. Maul only applied further pressure, causing Miri's face to twist up in pain. One of her wrist bones snapped like a shard of glass and she let out a shriek.

"Please!" the padawan called out again with more force in his voice. "I, I'll do it, Maul! I'll be your apprentice and do whatever you want! Just don't hurt her!"

Maul's palm turned away and Miri was sent slamming back into the ground. The brittle tips of withered grass punctured her skin from the impact. She lay in a crumpled mess upon the dirt, tiny gasps escaping from her lips.

"Ezra Bridger." The Zabrak shook his head and stretched out his arms. "You have no idea how long I have waited to hear you say those words." Ezra winced, expected the Zabrak to draw closer to him, to somehow infuse his dark power with himself. But instead he went on.

"You have much to learn as my pupil. Do you think you can bargain with the Dark Side in exchange for the life of another? Oh no, my apprentice. You must submit to me of your free will."

The double-bladed weapon rotated gracefully around his body. "To embrace the Dark Side, you must know despair as I have known all my life. You must experience pain and loss until you cry out for the darkness to heal your wounds. Once you see your loved ones perish before your eyes and you realize that there is no great power in the universe, only then can the Dark Side claim you for itself."

The padawan could barely shake his head in defeat. "Please," he whispered. "Please, not this."

"Shhh," the Dark Sider soothed him. His voice was barely a hiss against the crackling sounds of the fire. "Do not be afraid of your future, apprentice. Pain is merely a prelude to greatness and I will show you the way. You need not bear those wounds within your body or soul much longer."

Maul pointed accusingly at the wounded Twi'lek. "But this woman will die tonight. Her sacrifice is required to set you free."

Ezra's body trembled as tears of defeat began to leak out of his eyes.

He had exhausted the last of the Force hours ago; now he was running on fumes and even now they would snuff out any second. From his downcast position, he could see Miri's body lying on the ground like a broken doll. Her chest was barely moving, which should have provided him with a positive insight, but Ezra knew it a single stroke of Maul's lightsaber would silence her for eternity.

Blood. Fire. Hatred. Destruction.

His body was little more than an empty shell as Ezra's head fell back against the sharp reeds. The baked earth beneath his limbs was a welcomed relief; all he had to do was close his eyes and fall into the darkness, into safe unending sleep where there was no smell of smoke or the crackling of reeds dissolving into ashes...

Where was the Ghost and its charged cannons? Where was Kanan and his blue lightsaber when Ezra needed them?

" _Help_ ," he thought. The word spiraled down into his conscience, into the winding tunnel of oblivion. _"Please, help us."_

No matter how long the journey takes, all tunnels have their ends and exits. Where a pebble finally hit the pond, the ripples spread outward from the tiniest flickers into endless circles of a shatterpoint reaction.

 **"** _**Help** _ **."**

A word resonated through Ezra. He could sense it coming not from within but beneath him. The palm that rested upon the scorched earth seemed to steady itself, as if something beneath Ezra's body was supporting his limbs and causing them to feel lighter.

He lay still on the ground, poised and silent, waiting through the darkness in wonder of where this message of the Force was coming from. The message responded back to him in a voice that was deep and ancient, restless and responding to the call of the Jedi student. He did not understand it at first but then as his senses tuned into the voice, Ezra realized where it was coming from.

**"Help you."**

A decade ago, the Imperial scout troopers had salted the earth in the dead of winter and then abandoned the moon. The harvest had already been dormant for months so the poison did not fully reach their roots. After nearly ten years of hibernation, the moon's core was now restless and the plants were struggling forward, reaching for the surface and hungry to feel the oxygen of the air as they struggled beneath the dirt.

Ezra had an army at his fingertips. He only needed one final push, one last burst of energy to summon it forth. Turning his head aside, he could barely make out Miri's exhausted face. The orange flames from the fire cast across the blue tint of her face, making it appear ethereal and bewildered in the light.

" _Earth_ ," he thought to her. She must have understood because there was the tiniest nod of a head, the Twi'lek's palm touched the ground. Miri entrusted Ezra with her last breath and waited upon his command for the final push.

Whatever bits of the Force the two of them were sharing, Maul presumed they were final prayers before he would carry out his last deed. The Twi'lek would die, Ezra Bridger's heart would break in two, and then the true glory of the Dark Side would sweep over and around him in its eternal embrace.

Maul took a final stance and charged towards Miri.

" _Now_ ," Ezra thought. Both padawan and Force-healer steeled themselves against the onslaught of the Dark Sider before them. Mustering up their final shreds of Force energy, they rammed their fists into the ground with their last bits of strength.

The catalyst was brilliant. The ground parted in a clean sharp crack between Maul and the Lightsiders and then from the abyss, thorns and roots burst out of the ground. Ten years of hibernation had been stored in the moon and now that its vegetation was earthbound, the plants were sucking up air and spreading out as fast as they could.

The sprouts were thicker than Ezra's arms, their nettles sharp as daggers and twice as long as his lightsaber. Maul leapt back, swiping his lightsaber back and forth to cut off the roots that seemed to burst out of each other, curling and forming upwards and outwards.

"Filthy weeds!" he snarled, slicing through a branch aiming towards his head. He could barely see Ezra or Miri, now that a maze of vines and thorns had driven him further apart from his prize. So focused was the Dark Sider on what he was doing that a single thorn as long as a branch lashed out and punctured him in the shoulder with its razor-sharp tip. It stabbed through the skin, exiting out his shoulder, and pierced him against the trunk of a tree.

Pulsating white-hot pain seared into Maul's skin and he gnashed his teeth, cursing as he used the lightsaber in his left hand to hack through the thorn. Through his rage he could hear the humming sound of an engine. Maul ceased what he was doing long enough to noticed the Ghost hovering above them. It flew over his head and landed safely on the other side of the thorn bushes.

One swift stroke hacked off the thorn, releasing him from the trunk of the tree. He grasped the part embedded into his shoulder-blade and with one furious tug, wrenched it out. Bolts of pain flashed up and down his torso but he ignored them, spurning himself to doge the thorny trees that had materialized before him. Branches scraped and tore at his skin yet he raced onward, fueled by his wrath and the channel of the Force.

By the time he had gotten to the other side, the Ghost was already air bound and nothing more than a speck of light winking like a fading star in the sky. The droid, the bedslave, and the apprentice were gone.

Maul stood there with one palm pressed into the sticky liquid that was seeping out his wound and running down his chest. It was only then that he realized how remarkably quiet his surroundings had become. The vegetation had hastily stamped out the fire and now the only sounds were the scraping of thorns against each other and Maul's own hot frantic breaths.

The Dark Side swirled within him like a furious gale. He should have let out a roar of rage, attacked the thorns, or done something else appropriate in his time of defeat.

But he did none of these things. Instead, the Zabrak took a long moment to look around at the natural phenomenon that had sprouted forward and a chuckle crept out of his throat.

The chuckle grew louder, amusement rippling within his chest, until he was laughing aloud at the entire experience.

Funny. Yes, it was truly amusing to him to realize that yet again he had underestimated Ezra Bridger. Even after being severely wounded in battle and nearly depleted of energy, the young Jedi had managed to escape his captors and then summon enough power to wake up a small planet.

Never since the Clone Wars had Maul witnessed any Force-wielder capable of such extraordinary feats. _"So much for the little padawan of Lothal,"_ he thought to himself.

Never mind the temporary defeat. If there was one thing Maul had learned through his festering trials and tribulations, it was the lesson of being patient. He would accept his temporary loss with resolution. This encounter with the apprentice had opened up many new possibilities and he was eager to explore then in the future.

He bent his head down and licked some of the blood off the wound. It filled his mouth with thick briny liquid and he let it roll around his tongue before spitting the blood into the ground.

The Zabrak watched the gob of spit and blood seep beneath the earth. A small green and brown sprout instantly rose up in its place.

A-A-A

_14 hours later:_

The moon had changed considerably in a short amount of time. The nutrition-deficient plants had ravenously consumed the remainders of the escape pod, pulling it underground and into the soil where microscopic bacteria were in the process of breaking it up. Any remaining drops of blood that had spilled had also been sucked beneath the surface.

But the most noticeable alternation were the blossom that had sprouted up from the thorn forest. Now the branches were covered in pale pink and white flowers, clouds of rosy brilliance concealing the still-threatening plants beneath their delicate petals.

Grand Admiral Thrawn was fascinated by this phenomena. He and his scientific colleague had nearly missed this sector until the shuttle readings confirmed an unanticipated burst of life form on this desolate moon. It was fortunate that they had altered their schedule to investigate. He was looking forward to the challenge of unraveling the mystery of its creation.

"What do you think, Dr. Kalpur?" he asked his colleague in a silvery voice.

His companion had been dividing his attention between the datapad in his hand and the trees before them.

"It's extraordinary, Grand Admiral," he declared. Dr. Kalpur could barely contain his excitement. "I will require samples of the soil to test back in our laboratory. But it appears that the bacteria in the ground set off a chain reaction that resulted in an accelerated germination process."

"But what factor caused the bacteria to do so?" Thrawn questioned him in the same cool unemotional voice.

Dr. Kalpur raised his hands in defeat. "At this point it is difficult to say. I can detect traces of salt in the soil which suggest this used to be a farming planet until the Empire had it sterilized." His eyes gleamed with delight. "But now that it is capable of producing life again, perhaps it could be revitalized into a suitable logging camp."

"Indeed." Thrawn's voice responded as evenly as single note of music. However, he did not have laboratories or logging camps on his mind.

Silently, on booted feet, he walked closer to the blossoming forest. "Careful, Grand Admiral!" Dr. Kalpur warned him. "Those thorns could be lethal."

"I've no doubt of that," he murmured. Bending closer, he examined one of the needle-sharp tips. No doubt it could do great damage to a careless creature that crossed its path. Yet on the same branch were dozens of snow-white blossoms, soft to the touch and even releasing the faintest trace of sweetness, the embodiment of beauty and balance.

Thrawn was not of the same mind as Dr. Kalpur. Moons do not just wake up overnight and explode with such remarkable artwork without inspiration. There had to be a catalyst, an external factor that had caused this to unfold. Thrawn suspected there had been the intervention of more intelligent life-forms though his scanner indicated no present traces of such life nearby.

 _"But which came first?"_ Thrawn pondered. _"Chaos or creativity?"_ Had the blossoms inspired to create thorns to protect their fragile beings? Or had the thorns come first and then chosen to deceive the enemy with bewitching flowers?

Though he showed no signs of emotion on his face, inwardly he was pleased to have witnessed the response of something remarkable. Thrawn was secure in his capabilities and confident that he would discover the answer in good time.

For now, he was content to clasp his hands behind his back and stare up at the trees. A swift breeze rustled through them, sending a shower of pink and white petals swirling around him. Two landed on his shoulder but he did not dare brush them off. This was a sacred phenomenon; he would respect it for its duality and remarkability.

He did, however, open up his palm and allow two tiny pink petals to land safely upon the blue skin. The trees continued to weep and rain down flowers all around him.

A-A-A

_Ghost shop, Mid-Rim sector 302_

Ezra's heavy eyelids finally managed to pry open. Attention flickering overhead, his mind recognized the familiarity of his bunk and he knew he was back on the Ghost. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief.

The faintest breath of air was heard by the Jedi Knight who sat next to him. Kanan Jarrus was resting upon a chair, his head bent forward in cupped hands. He had refused to leave Ezra's side and had eventually nodded off until the sound of the young man waking up caused Kanan to jerk out of his own half-sleep.

"Ezra?" The muted green eyes of his master hovered over him.

A glimmer of blue light flitted out of the young man's eyes when he heard Kanan call his name. He managed to smile weakly at his master. The flicker of life was a crescent moon shining back into Kanan, ending his bleakness.

"Hey," he murmured faintly.

"How do you feel?"

"Tired," the padawan admitted. He attempted to lift his head off the pillow but it was an enormous weight bolted onto his neck. He fell back into his bunk, realizing that the merest of movements exhausted him.

A warm hand touched his shoulder "I'm not surprised. You've been in a healing trance for almost two days. Just take it easy until you get your strength back."

Ezra nodded in agreement and then his eyes opened slightly wider. "Miri…"

"She's fine," Kanan assured him. "Hera is looking after her in the medical bay."

"Do you need anything?"

"Thirsty."

Kanan slid a cupped hand around the back of Ezra's head and lifted it up several inches off the pillow. Ezra managed to bring his hands up enough to take a cup from Kanan and bring it to his lips. The first sip of ice-cold water tasted vibrant on his parched tongue and felt sharp as it slid down his throat. Ezra tried to drink more but started to cough when he swallowed down further mouthfuls too eagerly.

"Easy," Kanan assured him. "We don't want you chocking right now." He let Ezra finish the water and then propped his head back against the pillow. The Jedi Knight then produced a bowl of soup and let Ezra drink down half the contents. The salty brew spread warmth back from his chest down into his toes. He could already feel his eyelids getting heavy again.

"Still so tired," Ezra groaned. He didn't want to go back to sleep now that he knew Kanan was here.

"It's okay," Kanan assured him. He rested a palm protectively on Ezra's forehead. "You barely had any energy left when we found you on that moon. Your body has been regaining strength and healing your ribs. Take your time, Ezra. We'll talk later."

Ezra's head barely nodded but he allowed himself to close his eyes and fall back into a dreamless sleep, safe and content beneath his master's watchful presence.

A-A-A

Several days passed in relative calmness after Ezra and Miri's rescue. Both Force-users gradually regained their strength and leave the Ghost, taking in fresh air and getting strength back into their bodies as they walked around Chopper Base.

Kanan knew Ezra had made a full physical recovery when he walked onto the training field and overheard Sabine and Ezra instruct Miri how to properly use and fire a blaster. Her attempts were shaky at first but she continued learning with persistence until she could fire a shot with the Mandalorian's approval.

Ezra, however, seemed skittish around Kanan and the Jedi Knight couldn't put his finger on what was bothering his apprentice. His many suspicions centered around Maul and his manipulative methods. Kanan was concerned that the Zabrak had again attempted to influence Ezra but the Jedi Knight chose not to push his student. He only assured Ezra that he was available to listen if the padawan wanted to talk.

His patience paid off when Kanan was meditating in his room one afternoon and the door slid open.

"Can I come in?" Ezra asked. There was a hint of doubt in his tone that suggested Ezra was worried about something.

"Of course," he assured him, beckoning Ezra to come inside. The student sat upon a mat opposite his mentor and placed his hands upon his kneecaps. "What's on your mind?"

"It was something Maul said back on the Thundercloud." The teen's throat tightened slightly as he spoke. "He told me that Jedi younglings were taken away from their families when they were babies."

His mentor's eyelids opened, revealing a milky-green gaze. On previous occasions, Ezra found it hard to look Kanan in the eyes without having the memories of Malachor flood back into him. But now he urged himself forward.

"Kanan, isn't not true, is it? Tell me it was just another one of Maul's lies."

To deny it was impossible. To defend it would be painful. Unable to find appropriate words, Kanan chose silence as the weight of the truth fell over his apprentice.

"No!" Ezra blurted out. One fist punched the ground in frustration. "He had to be lying! How could the Jedi do such a terrible thing? How could they do this to you?" Ezra pointed to his teacher. "Aren't you angry, Kanan? It isn't fair!"

"What's defined as 'fair' depends on your point of view," Kanan said at last in a quiet tone. "To some people, it isn't 'fair' for Jedi to exist because our abilities are unique in the galaxy. Should we put away our lightsabers and stop using our gifts to help people all because it would feel 'fair' to everyone else?"

"No," Ezra responded slowly. "But you told me once that you never knew your parents. Doesn't that make you angry?"

It was an honest and empathetic question coming from Ezra Bridger. He who had known his family and had them taken away from him had endured a bitter ordeal that left a scar on his heart. It was something Kanan could sympathize with but he knew that he could never truly experience what Ezra had been through, of having his mother and father vanish when he was eight years old and then told of their terrible tragedy as a teenager.

"It makes me curious," Kanan admitted. "Sometimes I do wonder what my mother and father were like. But the Jedi temple was my home for my childhood and I never lacked for anything. The other younglings were my brothers and sisters and our teachers were our parents. So maybe it wasn't a traditional family but it was a family all the same to me."

"But it feels wrong to me," confessed his student.

"Becoming attached for selfish reasons can lead people to do the wrong things," Kanan agreed. "Learning to respect your loved ones, and letting them go when they need to, allows you to grow and flourish in your relationships. It's only when you hold on so tight to people and things that you forget that you cannot control everything in life. If that was the first lesson we were ever taught, it was one that kept us humble and grounded.

"You don't have to agree with it, Ezra. But what happened in the past cannot be changed. The Jedi did what they thought was right. Whether or not it would be effective now—"

"So Maul wasn't lying," Ezra said bitterly. He didn't mean to cut Kanan off but his teacher knew how frustrated he was.

"I'm afraid not. It makes him a more dangerous enemy to know that he can mix truth with enough lies to make the facts palatable. But he was correct about the Jedi and the younglings."

"So what happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what will happen to the future Jedi?" Ezra asked. "Will we have to take kids away from their parents too? Just so they won't get too attached to their families? What if we disobey Master Yoda?"

Kanan tilted his head up slightly, as if seeking an answer from the ethereal space above them. Ezra tried not to hold his breath as he anticipated a verdict from his teacher.

"Why don't we cross that bridge when we get to it?" Kanan suggested at last. "Defeating the Empire and the Sith is our first priority. Otherwise, the future of the Jedi is in danger. When it is safe to show and share the Force with others, then we can decide on what should be done."

"But what if I find someone that I care about?" the padawan persisted. "I'd want to be with them and share in their life. I don't know if I could give up all attachments, Kanan."

The warm radiant face of Hera Syndulla instantly appeared in the Jedi Knight's mind, spreading through him like rays of sunshine. _"Neither can I_ ," Kanan thought.

Perhaps Ezra Bridger was right. Perhaps even Maul was correct; the traditions that the Jedi had upheld for centuries had not saved them from Order 66 or prevented the rise of the Empire. If the Jedi were to yet again survive and eventually flourish, if there ever was going to be a new generation of Force-users to bring hope and justice back to the galaxy, perhaps they had to reexamine their faults and learn from past mistakes.

"I trust you to make the right decisions," Kanan said at last. "When the time is right and you meet that special someone, you will have the wisdom of the Force and the freedom for yourself to decide what is right for both of you."

He listened to the sound of his apprentice breathing out, having struggled through his frustrations and finally coming to a place of enlightenment.

"It still isn't easy to accept," Ezra said at last.

"No, it isn't. Nor is growing up easy either." Kanan rose from his mat and gestured for Ezra to follow him as they left the room and began walking down the Ghost's corridor. "In life we learn that many things we thought were simple can turn out to be complicated. The Jedi were not perfect people and they certainly weren't immortal. I learned more than just survival skills from Order 66."

"Kanan?" the apprentice spoke up. "Um, what was Master Billaba like?"

Ezra expected Kana to describe her many excellent qualities. Intelligent, brave, dedicated, caring, and disciplined all came to his mind.

"She had a beautiful smile," the Jedi Knight said at last. He had to resist grinning as he could practically envision Ezra's flabbergasted face and then scrunching up his nose in disappointment. No doubt he was thinking, _"That's all?"_

"Master Billaba was one of the youngest members of the Jedi High Council and had many responsibilities on her shoulders, including leading a battalion of Clone Troopers," Kanan explained. "It was a heavy burden to carry and I knew she lost many friends during the fight."

A woman's voice, soft as a spring breeze and clear as a morning pond, flitted though his mind.

_"Am I damaged goods? I, I suppose I am, Caleb."_

"In spite of the war and her losses, I remember that she could still smile at the end of the day. It was her smile that gave all of us hope. It reassured me that she accepted whatever future the Force had in store for us and it made me feel brave and content to be by her side."

"I wish I knew her," Ezra murmured quietly.

Kanan was of the same opinion. They continued in silence as they left the Ghost and proceeded to another area of Chopper Base.

Chopper had diligently lined up tin cans atop empty crates and wheeled back several feet. Miri wrapped her fingers around the pistol and fired several shots across the air. The Mandalorian blaster shots made sharp popping sound when they collided with the metal cans.

Sabine stood by with hands on her hips. "Three out of five. Not bad for a beginner," she told Miri. "But stormtroopers won't be standing still all the time."

The Twi'lek accepted her frank judgement with grace. "Then I'll just have to keep practicing."

She put down the blaster and then noticed some papers folded up on a cargo crate. "Do you need those tidied up?" Miri offered. She curiously reached for one of them.

"Wait! Those aren't—" Sabine protested. But Miri had already caught one paper that nearly got blown away by a breeze. She smoothed out the wrinkles on the surface and studied it curiously. For once, Sabine was rubbing the back of her head and looked away, her usual confidence ebbing.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out. "Okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude but you were sleeping all that time and do you know how difficult it is to get people to pose without moving for hours on end?"

Miri remained silent as she gazed at the graphite sketch of a Twi'lek sitting at the edge of a pool. Sabine had used the pencil to sketch out the details of waves rippling in the water and the gentle features of the Twi'lek, who was posing in the drawing with cupped hands holding a single flower against her cheek.

She held up the drawing before Sabine. "Is this supposed to be me?" she asked with intrigue.

A blush rose up in Sabine's cheekbones but she managed to meet Miri's gaze and nod. "I know I should have asked for your permission and it isn't my best work," she insisted. "But I just got carried away at the moment. None of my color sticks have your shade so I stuck with graphite and—"

"It's very good," Miri spoke up.

Sabine's mouth hung open for a minute. Then she found her voice. "Really?" she spoke up.

"Really." The Twi'lek smiled openly at her, letting relief flood back into Sabine. "I can tell that you put a great deal of effort and detail into your work. If you have a portfolio, Tamar may commission you for a painting."

"Well," Sabine hesitated as she took back the paper and quickly rolled it up. "I don't like getting paid for my work. Art should be created for its own sake."

The Twi'lek smiled at her words. "I know Tamar would insist on paying someone who did their best work for her. Just imagine how many more blasters or paint sticks you could earn."

"I'll think about," Sabine responded. She quickly gathered up the papers and put her blaster back in the holster. "C'mon, Chopper. Hera wants us to finish up our schedule."

The droid grumbled in protest but after a few more words, followed Sabine willing back into the hangar bay. Miri glanced aside to see Ezra with Kanan approaching her.

"Glad to see you're better," he told her. "How's your wrist?"

She removed a white bandage and showed him the skin. "All better. I'm glad you're both here. There's something I need to speak to you about."

They headed out of the base but kept close by one of the thumpers, just in case the Krykna spiders chose to come back. Fortunately, no unwanted visitors bothered them as the three Force-users found a quiet spot and down on the ground beneath a grooved tree. Once Kanan's ears detected it was safe to speak in privacy, he addressed Miri.

"Ezra said that you found something important on the Thundercloud," Kanan said at last. "A kyber crystal."

"Yes. Drix collected several fake talismans but he must not have realized among them was a real lightsaber."

"May I examine it?" Kanan asked her. Ezra gave Miri a reassured nod. Then she reached into her pocket and carefully removed the crystal. But instead of handing it over right away, she leaned into the crystal and starred into it.

"What's wrong?" asked Kanan.

"It looks different," she admitted. Ezra leaned over to take a look. Sure enough, the crystal was no longer a dull brown color. Now it was milky gray and one of the cracks looked shorter than it did the last time she had shown him.

Kanan tugged at his beard, intrigued by this piece of news. "The kyber crystal must be resonating with the energy around it to change form. May I?" he asked, extended a palm to Miri.

She carefully placed the gem into his hand and he turned it over with his fingers. "Do we have any idea who this belonged to?"

"Asajj Ventress," Ezra told him.

The padawan didn't expect his teacher to look so shocked or mortified that he nearly dropped the crystal. "Ventress." The word came out like the sharp tip of an arrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Miri confirmed. "I saw her face in my mind."

"Kanan, did you know Ventress?" asked Ezra.

"Not personally, no." Kanan's voice rose with tension and his words came out quickly. "But the older children used to tell stories about her in the dormitory to scare the younglings. They said Asajj Ventress was the right hand of Separatist Alliance and could slice you in half with one blow. She was a witch, they told us. A monster."

"I don't think she was always a monster," Miri insisted. "Maul told me that she was emotionally involved with a Jedi towards the end of her life."

"Another lie?" Ezra questioned.

Kanan said nothing as his fingers slowly curled over the crystal, attempting to dissolve into its past. Once upon a time in his life there were younglings with frizzy hair, buck teeth, and big eyes who would shriek, " _Look out! Ventress will come and get you with her red lightsabers_!" but it had been so long ago…

The bare-headed woman's face materialized before him and there was no hatred radiating in her eyes but something else, something heavy and cool and the sensation was painfully familiar to Kanan.

"Sadness," he said at last.

"Yes, I felt her sadness," Miri agreed sympathetically. "The dark path she walked in life must have been a lonely one."

Kanan's head tilted down from the crystal back up to Miri. "What do you think should be done with it?"

She hesitated before speaking. "I'm not sure," she said at last.

Kanan altered his question. "What do you want to do, Miri? You can speak freely between us." He extended his arm out and allowed the crystal to fall back into her hand. Ezra watched her brow crease as she touched the crystal with one finger. He was eager to hear her answer but instead of speaking, Miri rose to her feet and began walking several feet away from the tree.

Ezra also got to his feet and was about to go after her when Kanan lightly touched him on the arm. "She needs to sort this out for herself," Kanan explained. "Let Miri decide what must be done with that crystal."

His padawan remained in silence and curiosity but then nodded his head in agreement. "Okay," he said at last.

The Twi'lek turned the crystal over between her fingers and studied it again. Now the milky-gray seemed to become clearer, like a piece of glass, and the crack in it appeared to be smoothing itself out. Was it resonating with her energy? Would a Force-user like Asajj Ventress even permit one of her sacred stones to go into the hands of someone else?

"I know that this does not belong to me. I should respect your memory and your possessions," Miri spoke aloud. The wind blew restlessly in her ears. She swallowed and continued speaking.

"I am sorry for the pain you have endured in your life. You may not want pity but I can give you nothing else, nothing but hope. I hope that your memory does not fade over time. I hope that you will find serenity in the afterlife."

She held up the crystal to the fading sunset. "With your permission, I would like to use this gem to continue in my own training in the Light Side. I swear to treat it with the greatest respect that it deserves. Will you allow me to take it with me?"

The restless wind stirred at her feet in response. Miri closed her eyes and could feel the flare of the sunset filter through her eyelids in orange spots. She stood perfectly still and allowed the Force around her to come to a final decision. Then she opened her eyes and smiled.

"Thank you, Asajj Ventress. May the Force guide your spirit to eternal peace."

Miri returned the crystal to her pocket and walked back to Ezra and Kanan.

"I have work to do," she told them. "Will you help me?"

A-A-A

_Chopper Base, Inventory Room_

"I find it highly unlikely that Poppy will want to work with you," AP5 snubbed Chopper. "She is after all, a protocol droid like me. I am better suited to teach her about this facility."

The tall blue droid found his path blocked by Chopper, who delivered a string of binary protests and then insisted that Poppy's mode made her far more compatible as a co-worker for himself than AP5.

The protocol droid found himself balling up his fists into a very undignified (and regrettably human) response. "What did you just call me? A over-charged tin-plated monstrosity?"

Chopper gurgled gleefully and confirmed that that was _exactly_ what he had called AP5.

Both droids turned around when Poppy whirled into the inventory room but upon seeing both of them, she spun around and whirled as quickly as possible into the hanger bay.

"Wait! Stop!" AP5 called out. "You have to choose which of us is better-"

Chopper swerved in front of him, causing AP5 to collide and crash onto the ground. Metallic parts clanked nosily against each other. The astromech was in the lead and continued to pursue Poppy, and would have caught up with her, had Hera not blocked his path.

"Chopper, that's enough!" Hera insisted. Her faithful astromech backpedaled two feet and chirped with protest.

"I know you both like Poppy but arguing and causing trouble isn't going to help anyone. Besides, Ezra and I have decided on a home for her elsewhere."

Chopper's dome sagged and he responded in the negative. Hera tried to contain a soft laugh as she knelt down to be eye-to-eye with Chopper.

"Yes, she'll be well taken care of. And I'm sure you'll see her again soon. But I don't want to see you fighting with your best friend either, okay?"

Chopper rotated around to see AP5 pick himself off the ground. The astromech whistled and hunched forward in defeat. Nevertheless, he consented to Hera's judgement and wheeling over, helped AP5 off the ground.

Hera smiled and headed further into the hanger bay. She could here Poppy clicking away fretfully from behind a Y-wing. Hera bent over so that the droid could face her.

"It's okay, Poppy. You can come out now," Hera assured her gently. The little protocol droid rolled cautiously towards Hera. The captain smiled and patted her dome with a gloved hand. "It's not your fault Chopper and AP5 are misbehaving. But don't worry. They'll be back to normal soon."

Poppy beeped an affirmative and thanked Captain Syndulla for her help, then delivered her question about what exactly the Rebel Alliance had planned for her.

"We've got some friends on Kaller who could use your help," Hera told her with knowing nod.

A-A-A

_Kaller, just off Central Boulevard_

"We are not getting a droid," Tamar answered firmly. The two younger Twi'leks remained in front of her with hands clasped in front of them and eyes as big and innocent as they could muster.

Poppy remained in the other room waiting for the verdict. From Hera Syndulla's output, her colleague Tamar Ily'an would demand nothing less than 100% effort from her staff. The little droid was determined to prove herself an ideal worker.

"But Miri and Captain Syndulla both recommended this droid! Can't we make an exception this time?" Nava begged. "Please?"

"Pretty please?" Io echoed.

"Girls, a droid is a resourceful asset but they can be fickle programmers," Tamar explained calmly. "Besides, they require constant maintenance. Someone will have to give her oil baths to keep her running smoothly and I've got my hands full running the café as it is."

"We'll take turns," Nava insisted. Io nodded in agreement. "We promise to take good care of Poppy."

"And does Poppy promise to cooperate and be productive?"

The little droid could not withhold information anymore. She wheeled into the room and chirped politely to Tamar and then ran off a list of her credentials and background experience.

"Queen Jamilla? That is impressive," Tamar acknowledged. "But you may be overly qualified. Are you capable of adjusting your programming to our lifestyle?"

Poppy wheeled over to a table where the holonet was playing and began to download information. In less than a minute Tamar's data pad chimed with an update. The cafe owner picked up her pad and studied it.

"You arranged for six months of kaff beans delivered to our door?" Tamar asked in astonishment. "And a five percent discount?"

Io couldn't stop smiling. If there was ever a way to court favors with Tamar, it was through a good bargain.

"Hmmm." Tamar put down her datapad and examined Poppy more closely. Poppy noticed that the Twi'lek was especially interested in her seal of excellence.

"I will put you on a three-week trial period," she decided at last.

Poppy chirped in delight while Io and Nava jumped in each other's arms for joy.

Tamar clapped her hands to get their attention. "This is a cafe, not a circus. You girls get some clean rags from Hogarth and bagu oil. I want this droid cleaned and polished before she meets our customers."

"Poppy! Welcome to the team!" Nava exclaimed. The droid wheeled out of the room, buzzing with delight.

Tamar fell back into a chair and sighed aloud. She had no qualms with droids whatsoever; it was the responsibility of keeping up and adjusting with the ever-changing world around her that could be challenging at times. Still, she was inwardly amused at the irony of having a royal droid of Naboo now under her roof.

"I take it our family is growing," Hogarth said from the doorway. The girls had nearly collided into him and begged for his best tools so that they could properly clean off Poppy's carbon scoring. Hogarth put on a nonchalant gruff exterior but the few people who knew him well were aware he found these little surprises in their lives amusing

"First Io and now Poppy. When are we going to adopt a family of Wookies?" he asked with a smirk.

"Don't push me," Tamar warned him.

"So you have thought of it, boss." Hogarth chuckled lightly as he sat across the table from her and put down two mugs of fresh kaff.

"In light of current events, we'll just have to adapt our circumstances. That includes updating our décor when necessary." Tamar took a sip of her kaff and opened up a file on her datapad. Several holograms of painted artwork hovered over the table.

"I need your advice, Hogarth. Tell me which of Miss Wren's Neo-Expressions would look best as a café mural."

A-A-A

SIX WEEKS LATER

_Planet Kaseau, apartment district_

Cassian Andor was prepared to die.

He had broken out of an interrogation chamber and fractured the shoulder of an Imperial lieutenant. He had kept his body heat stable even after the twin engines of his jet had gone out and he had nearly frozen to death in space. When the TIE fighters ripped off the roof of a building, a calculated leap (and sheer dumb luck) had kept him from landing on the ground in a gory mess.

Now as he lay writhing on the mattress, a film of sweat spread over his face and shivers racking his body, he realized that his youthful career as a rebel could expire soon.

K-2SO was out in the streets waiting for his contact. The crackle of static from a comm-link broke through the thick hazy half-sleep that offered Cassian little relief from his sickness. He clutched the comm-link in one hand and brought it to his mouth.

"Kay?" he demanded.

"The shuttle has just arrived and the contact should arrive in approximately seven to nine minutes."

"Good," Cassian mumbled thickly. He heaved over the mattress and heaved the contents of his stomach into the bucket. The rotting smell mingled with his sweat in the little room.

"If your temperature does not go down in the next four hours then your diagnostic will be fatal," the droid confirmed.

"Good." Cassian flopped back on the mattress.

"I don't know how a positive response can be anticipated of such an outcome," K-2SO responded.

Cassian hadn't the strength to talk back to the droid. Just feeling his heart attempt to pump blood to the rest of his body was enough of an ordeal for him. The minutes crawled by endlessly and then just as his head was sizzling with fever, the latch of the door popped.

The unblinking eyes of K-2SO appeared at the top of the door and then someone slid into the room, carrying with her a cool powdery scent that Cassian inhaled greedily. She was wearing travel-stained clothes and a tan cloak with a hood. A leather strap crossed over her chest down to the large satchel that rested on her left hip. The newcomer pulled back her hood revealing the distinct features of a pale blue Twi'lek.

The presence of a beautiful woman in the dingy room caused Cassian to gape in shock. Then he scowled at K-2SO. "I asked for a medical officer, not a dancer!" he snapped.

"I'm not a dancer," she corrected him. "I'm a musician."

"Oh, wonderful." Cassian groaned.

"And a medical officer," she added.

"That _is_ wonderful," K-2SO responded. To Miri he added, "The patient is five-foot-nine and has lost six pounds since-"

"-since contacting the virus?" she asked.

"You are correct," the droid answered.

Miri removed her satchel and placed it carefully on the ground. Her nose crinkled from the offensive odors but she drew close to Cassian, then laid a cool dry palm upon his forehead. He wanted to protest, to tell K-2SO to contact the Alliance again and demand a _real_ doctor he could trust, but her touch caused his body to become uncharacteristically still. He must have been hallucinating but somehow the nausea in his stomach wasn't so pronounced.

"Show me where the worms got in," she told him. Cassian pulled up one trouser and Miri's features distorted when she saw the flaring red scabs on his lower right leg. The miniscule parasites had already done their dirty work. Miri's scanner confirmed all of the signs her patient was experiencing: weight loss, vomiting, fever and chills.

"I need an anesthetic," Cassian insisted.

"That will delay your symptoms but not slow down the parasites," she explained carefully. "I need to remove the infected tissue or else your fever will continue to go up."

"And then you will die," K-2SO reminded him. Cassian groaned in defeat.

"He's not going to die," she insisted firmly. "Not now, at least." Miri scribbled something on a bit of paper with a piece of graphite and then handed it to K-2SO. "Here's a list of supplies that I need."

The droid accepted the list from her and examined it. "This is a long list. It is going to take a lot of time."

"Then you'd better get started now, shouldn't you?" Cassian snapped at the droid.

K-2SO turned towards the door, his footsteps oddly similar to that of a reluctant counterpart. Once he was gone, Miri rummaged around in her bag and removed a syringe stick.

She rolled up his sleeve but Cassian stopped her when he clamped a hand on her wrist. "What's that?" he demanded.

"Mild sedative," she explained.

"No way! I don't trust you!" His eyes glittered with frenzy from the fever.

"You trusted your fellow rebel who arranged for me to come," she explained. Her voice grew gentle as she added, "I would not do anything to jeopardize your life or his. But I need you to trust me for the sake of your health."

Defeated and exhausted, Cassian fell back on the mattress. Miri pressed the needle into the arm and pushed the syringe in. His eyes closed in less than ten seconds and deep breathes escaped from his lips.

She busied herself, emptying the contents of the bucket out the window and rinsing it three times in hot water from the tap. Other items came out of the satchel: sterilizing packets, gloves, bacta-bandages among them.

Then Miri examined Cassian, pinching him on the arm several times to ensure that he was comatose. Only then did she remove the last item from her bag.

In appearance it looked like a stubby glow-wand. The gnarled wooden casing served no purpose other than to conceal its true identify and it had worked. Even after the stormtroopers had dumped out all the contents of the satchel, they had found nothing worth confiscating and let Miri enter the district. Now she pried off the casing and turned it properly so the handle was parallel to her thumb.

The white beam of light that burst out was no longer than her arm and one-third the length of a standard lightsaber. But its purpose was ideal for concealment and even better, carried the resourcefulness of a kyber crystal in its heart.

Examining the three-dimensional hologram hovering above a datapad, Miri used the light-dagger to begin slicing off the infected tissue from Cassian's leg. No wonder the lightsabers were such cherished weapons to their masters. They could cut through skin and bone with such precision that no further necessary movements were required. Fortunately, he would not require having his leg amputated.

She was in this moment, content with the Force while enthralled to be performing the surgery, as Miri went through the motions and listened to Cassian's body as well as the audio instructions from her medical guide. Using tiny precise cuts, the light-dagger sliced away dead skin leaving the raw pink flesh beneath it exposed. When the surgery had concluded, Miri swabbed the flesh with a sterilizer, wrapped his knee in a clean white bacta-bandage, and pulled his pant leg down.

The Force-healer maneuvered herself to the crown of his head and the carefully cupped her palms around his ears. Closing her eyes, she could sense the layers of suspicion and frustration he had built around himself. There were many walls within this patient and she did not want to injure him further by breaking them down against his will.

He carried a heavy burden within himself. Unwilling to trust the ever-growing skeptical universe around him, Cassian Andor had turned his doubts inward and kept his heart encased in lead and steel.

Miri permitted herself a small sigh of sympathy. He had carried on the burden of the rebellion and it had made him bitter. Yet somehow, despite the relentless walls around him and the cynicism within him, was a glimmer of something honorable. It reminded her of the Jedi and his student and their empathetic courageous ways.

It was sufficient to let the Force do as it would, spreading through her fingertips and into Cassian's body. Cool gentle threads of energy filtered through his bloodstream, slowly breaking up the fever. Miri allowed the healing process to unfold until she could feel exhaustion creeping into the corners of her body and then carefully drew herself back. It was an ongoing challenge to allow herself sufficient strength to heal others without depleting herself entirely.

Examining his vital signs again, she allowed herself a small smile of confidence. Captain Andor would live to fight another day.

"How much longer does he have to live?" K2-SO pipped up from the doorway. His arms were full of parcels and packages.

"As long as the Force lets him," she assured the droid.

"That answer is insufficient." She could do little but shake her head at the odd droid. Miri proceeded to open up the packages and sift several powders into a jug of water. She mixed the contents together and gave K-2SO specific instructions about how much Cassian should drink.

"His temperature is dropping," K-2SO announced. "That is good. His likelihood of surviving has already improved 22%."

"And it will continue as long as he drinks this," she reminded him, giving the droid the heavy jug. "Make sure he showers as soon as he wakes up and uses this soap." A packet of sweet-smelling herbs was placed on the table next to the jug. K-2SO repeated all of the instructions to confirm that he was more than capable of following out the medical officer's orders.

Why she thanked him before leaving was beyond the droid's comprehension but he powered his circuits down to stand-by mode until his comrade was capable of communicating again.

When Cassian woke up several hours later his mysterious visitor was gone. He grumbled all the while but did as K-2SO ordered and managed a lukewarm shower in the tiny refresher room. The contents of the jug soon filled his empty stomach with vitamins and electrolytes, restoring nourishment to his depleted body. Another six hours of napping followed and then by the next day, Cassian felt well enough to get off his mattress.

His knees were shaky but he managed to navigate through the district safely with K-2SO by his side. The sight of a seven-foot-tall droid with an Imperial logo on its arm gave Cassian a wide berth and people moved out of the way for him. From time to time Cassian took a swig out of the jug until he and K-2SO were able to meet up with their contact.

"You look helluva lot better," said his friend.

Cassian said nothing but looked at the sulking woman next to them. "What's she doing here?"

"Captain Andor, meet Kobren Yusl." His contact smirked. "She's fulfilling her community service by transporting us off this rock."

"Let's just go," Kobren grumbled under her breath. Cassian was in no mood to vex her and willingly followed Kobren to the shuttle docked at the end of the hangar bay. With Kobren dressed in an Imperial science officer's uniform and supplied with false identification cards, they had little trouble with security and managed to board the shuttle and leave the planet without triggering any alarms.

"We're lucky we got out just now," Cassian's companion told him. "Had you stayed another hour, we would've tipped off the authorities."

"I had a good doctor," Cassian said at last.

"You can thank the senator when we get back," his comrade smiled. He shuffled a pack of sabaac cards in his hands while Kobren kept herself busy in the pilot's chair. K-2SO was co-pilot and getting on the former smuggler's nerves. Kobren could do little but grit her teeth as she navigated the shuttle through the stars. The only thing keeping her from wrenching that blasted droid's head off was the threat of lifetime exile to the Outer Rim from the Rebel Alliance. As much as Kobren hated her captors, she despised the alternative more.

"Your rapid breathing suggests your stress levels are elevated," K-2SO commented. "Is your mouth dry?"

"You could get me a beer for that," Kobren snorted.

"We do not carry alcohol aboard this ship."

"Lucky me," she groaned.

In the back of the shuttle, Cassian found his thoughts lingering on the strange woman who had tended to him. Now that he was out of danger and could think properly without sickness bombarding every cell of his body, he could sense a hint of remorse coming over him. He tried to crush it into the back of his mind but the flickering memory of her cool hand on his forehead and something of a song humming in her throat lingered like a phantom in his memories.

Cassian snorted with disgust. He had dirtied his hands for nearly twenty years and could not afford a budding conscience—not when the Empire's arm grew longer every day. Nor did he apologize for sacrificing for the greater good. There was no need for him to get so riled up about this.

And yet she had done something to him, something besides cutting off dead tissue and fixing him liquid medicine. His mind seemed clearer now, his heart felt somewhat lighter than it had for a long time. The flicker of remorse remained within him and unable to push it away any longer, Cassian allowed it to surface and form into a thought of resolution.

 _"I never thanked her,_ " he realized. _"I should have but I didn't."_

Cassian decided that if he ever got a next time, he would make sure to express his gratitude in person.

Elsewhere in the universe, the Force-healer reached her hand into her bag and took out the light-dagger. Unscrewing it slowly, she allowed the kyber crystal to land into her palm. It was no longer broken or faded. Now it was clear and bright as a drop of pure water and shimmered like a star as she turned it over once and starred contently into the sparkling depths.

Miri held the crystal to her chest and began to sing softly to herself.

A-A-A

Author's notes: Each Twi'lek has a distinguished personality as I brought her out and Miri is no exception. While they're all pretty girls, when I thought of Miri she is "fairest of them all" yet modest about her gifts. Unfortunately for Miri, beauty has brought her nothing but sorrow and heartache.

This melds with what we know about her in "Casablanca" and "Hyacinth" where she didn't know what to do about the Force. Instead of going outwards and damaging other people, it became a metaphor for self-destruction as it turned inward and hurt Miri. She's found direction through Kanan, guidance by Chava, and hope through Ezra. But the real challenge is finding courage within us and the metaphor of a lotus flower representing enlightenment was an appropriate fit for Miri.

Poppy's personality was inspired by Mma Makutsi from the "No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency" series by Alexander McCall Smith. Miri's ability to use Ventress' crystal was inspired by events that occurred in the "Ahsoka" novel by E.K. Johnson. Ventress' personal saga from the "Clone Wars" show continued into the novel "Dark Disciple" by Christie Golden. I highly recommend all three books.


	3. Cedar Tree

"Cedar trees, which produce cones and have fragrant, reddish wood, are a totem for many cultures. Cedar trees are mentioned in the Bible and by classical writers who were enthralled by the tree's size and majesty.

The size and longevity of the cedar tree symbolizes strength, and in Lebanon, the tree serves as an important cultural symbol for that reason. Poets and artists have conveyed the tree as a sign of strength and eternity, especially given the tree's endurance through tumultuous periods of history. As BBC News' Bethany Bell writes, the cedar is 'a symbol of survival in a fractured land'."

_-Garden Guides website_

A-A-A-A

Rebellions are built on hope. But life revolves around food.

No matter how glorious you make your cause out to be, no matter what sacrifices and anguish people are willing to go through for their children's future, Hogarth Lang knew the crucial fact in life.

You need to eat. If you do not eat then you do not live.

Hogarth did not fully grasp the value of this lesson as a child when he and his father worked dawn until dusk on their bit of farmland. Looking back as an adult, he realized that the chipped blue mug he used to drink out of was always filled to the brim of fresh bantha milk and never thinned down with water. His father did not have to take food off his own plate and give it to Hogarth or say he couldn't get them cheese or jam for their sandwiches. They traded their stupid but fat (meaning 'tasty') birds at the bakery and could afford the small luxury of getting fresh bread, not the stale loaves at the end of the week.

It wasn't until he was an adult during the Empire's reign and witnessed people diving in dumpsters and gaunt young girls standing on street corners selling themselves for a meal did he realize how fortunate he had been.

If you had a roof over your head and food in your stomach then you were indefinitely better off than most people in the galaxy.

And to think Hogarth swore he was born under an unlucky star.

A-A-A

During the Clone Wars, Hogarth had gone from one bureaucratic office to another to volunteer his services for the army. As bad as it was trying to muddle through the various departments, it was worse hearing people politely decline his services, explaining that he was "unqualified" for the war.

" _May I be honest with you, Mr. Lang? Your physical achievements at a mediocre mid-rim school are fine but your aptitude tests are...how can I put this? The results confirm that you are unsuitable for this kind of war."_

Why should they bother to recruit one six-foot-four redheaded candidate when there was an ideal laboratory turning out ideal troops every half hour?

He instantly hated those clones in their gleaming white uniforms. It was _their_ fault he never got his chance. Hogarth used to spit aside when he saw them march into town. But he respected his father's memory and restrained himself from starting fights with them.

It still burned both ways to know all his years of running, lifting weights, and wrestling were for naught.

Unsuitable. Unqualified. Useless. Stupid.

When the clones were quietly "dismissed" from the public eye he thought he'd try again at an Imperial academy. But two applications in and Hogarth walked out feeling even more pissed off than he was with the clones. It was clear to him that the Empire didn't want Hogarth to protect civilians. On the contrary, he was told that he'd make an ideal interrogation officer by beating the truth out of potential "criminals".

Hogarth may not have passed his mental configuration tests in school with flying colors but he refused to accept the notion that people who forged documents to get jobs or smuggled their children out of war zones deserved to have their skulls cracked.

While the Empire spent time and resources hunting down civilians who were struggling to stay afloat, Hogarth watched the simpering senators bask in the Empire's looted worlds while criminal leagues and black marketeers profited from vulnerable populations. He was disgusted with how swiftly the galaxy had been turned upside down.

Damnit, let people take care of themselves for a change. Let them read the books they want, go to the schools they desire, and tour the galaxy as they wish. You don't need five identification cards and a dozen stormtroopers to tell you how to live your life and you certainly don't need some Emperor hidden off the holo-net instructing you down to the last detail.

Hogarth needed something strong to take the edge off. Bread and milk were soon replaced with spice and wine.

To earn credits for both, Hogarth shuffled from one world to another in search of the midnight street fights that broke out beneath bridges and inside tunnels. At least here he could pound some meat without the Empire breathing down his back. He'd take his winnings and spend the rest of the evening at a spice-den. Wake up at dawn, drink a detox tea to sober up, and repeat the next day.

Years became a decade. One Empire Day after another. More stormtroopers marching on. Another shot of Bomar whiskey and a handful of the good stuff, oh yeah.

A-A-A

Iolanthe's curfew only applied if the bucketheads caught you. Fortunately, most of them never ventured out to the darker part of the fourth district and that's where Hogarth was earning enough for three days of spice. He had feigned losing to a smaller and more lithe attacker and then in the last round, surprised his opponent by driving his full force into the man's stomach. He was knocked out of breath and that's when Hogarth delivered a final blow across the jaw. He slumped over and everyone clapped for Hogarth.

He wasn't surprised to see several well-dressed people in the crowd. Bored of their cultured music halls and opera houses, the elite of Iolanthe liked to venture into the seedier parts of town for a bit of dangerous fun. But you wouldn't think twice of bothering those guests, not when they carried blasters and had hidden bodyguards around them. Some of the women smiled at him and the men nodded but they never would consider talking to him, let alone hire him to do menial work.

Hogarth wasn't sure who the Twi'lek in the long loose-fitting dress and matching cape belonged to. But she would pull the hood over her face from time to time when leering eyes came too close for her interest so maybe she wasn't someone's property (yet). Had Hogarth looked up from the fight more often, he would have noticed that she was studying him with great interest.

He forgot about her quickly. Seven hours later, he was being shaken awake in the spice den by a female hand. He smelled something sweet and pleasantly sharp with a tang of citrus scent. The Twi'lek was shaking him by the shoulder as she bent over his cot.

"Hogarth Lang?" she asked.

He grumbled sleepily in response. "Whatcha want?"

"I want to hire you for a job." Her voice was sharp and clear like a gust of fresh air.

"Now?" he groaned. His temples vibrated from a migraine.

"Now," she repeated firmly. "I will pay you thirty a day to escort me around town. Starting now."

Thirty wasn't so bad and he could use the money. Hogarth shoved all his exhaustion into the abyss of his body, swung his booted feet onto the ground, and stood up. "Let's go," he said at last.

Like all beginnings, theirs was an awkward one from the start. Hogarth was being paid to work, not to talk. He preferred to be quiet as possible anyway. He had decided years ago that life wasn't worth speaking a lot. If you dared to do so, someone else usually opened up their big fat mouth and said the opposite thing in twice as many words.

If Tamar Ily'an was uncomfortable with his Hogarth's lack of conversation then she was good enough not to coax him out of it. She would give him a polite "good morning" when he picked her up in his speedster and punctuate each of his actions with "thank you" at the end, even if it was something trivial as carrying a package for her.

Her intentions for his presence were clear from a week into their relationship. Tamar was keeping credits in her purse and food in her mouth by doing things Hogarth didn't expect a Twi'lek to do. Whenever an Imperial estate went bankrupt or a warehouse had overstocked goods, Tamar would rush in and bargain with the owner for the best price. Then she would use the holonet to contact new buyers and sell the goods for a profit.

Hogarth was intrigued by her cleverness. The stores were only too glad to get rid of their outdated fashions and overripe meilooruns while others would pay gladly for them. But there were constantly sniggering remarks at Tamar and strange unwanted hands that attempted to latch onto her breasts or backside.

It took little more than Hogarth's presence, and perhaps a beady glare (he had practiced in front of the mirror) to get them to back off from Tamar. Once, when a vendor's palm playfully tried to swat her bottom, Hogarth lashed out with one arm and nearly bent the man's wrist into five different parts.

"Let me go!" the vendor squeaked. He was a puny little thing with a ratty face.

"You're here to buy carpets, not bother the contractor," Hogarth growled.

The sound of his voice caused Tamar to whip around quickly, lekku flinging in haste before landing steadily against her back. She realized that her honor was being defended by her bodyguard. Hogarth saw the faintest smile on her lips but then she quickly wiped it away and replaced it with a monotone facade.

"Thank you, Hogarth. That will be all."

Hogarth released the man, who nursed his aching hand against his chest. "M-my apologies, Miss Ily'an," he said in a sniveling voice.

Back at the speeder, Tamar took out his wages and handed them to Hogarth. He counted them up and shook his head. "You paid me too much," he insisted, holding up two credit pieces.

"It's a bonus," she explained.

He opened his mouth to protest, to say that he didn't deserve it, but somehow he couldn't find the words to speak. Tamar just nodded in silent understanding.

Hogarth would not delude himself into thinking he would even join the realm as those holy men and women, those...those Jedi of lore. They had been ethereal people who carried themselves with dignity and dedicated their lives to the peace and happiness of others.

He was a big scruffy grouchy spice-addict with a broken nose. But he was still alive and the Jedi were not.

So perhaps, just for a few hours a day, Hogarth could _pretend_ to have the Jedi's qualities. Not their twitchy mojo, of course, but their honor and decency. It might be a silly notion for him to play-act in that role but it could be a nice way of upholding an ideal that existed long before the Empire decided to clamp its power around everyone in the galaxy.

Besides, Tamar Ily'an was proving out to be more than just a pretty face between twin lekku who paid him punctually. She was a _lady_. And Hogarth Lang may have not have heeded all of his mother's advice from long ago but he did remember how to treat a lady.

Hogarth began to comb his hair and tuck in his shirt before escorting Tamar on her errands. It felt funny the first few times but Tamar said nothing, though she did pause and smile the first time he arrived looking all cleaned up. He even used a pocket knife to get rid of any flecks of dirt beneath his fingernails. When out in the market, Hogarth felt his shoulders square back as he made room for Tamar and gave stern looks at those who dared venture into her personal space.

She was his responsibility now and he felt a bit of pride work itself into his spine to know that this Twi'lek was under his protection. Hogarth would not let her down.

Hogarth's efforts paid off when the speeder was cruising downtown one day and Tamar asked him to stop in front of a building. The former Republic office had seen better days but they ignored the half-boarded up windows and pried open the splintered wooden door.

The interior held the hushed memories of a station where work and prosperity once flourished. Sleepy from years of recluse and devoid of furniture, the empty room carried the sounds of their footsteps in eerie echoes. Hogarth checked the wiring and foundation concrete and though both in need of ramifications, overall the building was in surprisingly adequate condition.

Tamar took in several circles before standing in the center of the room.

"What are you thinking about?" Hogarth asked. He could now recognize that expression when her eyes brightened up and her face glowed. It meant Tamar's mind was hard at work putting together a practical plan of action.

"I think I'm in love," she said at last.

Hogarth wouldn't put in the same words but he did agree that this building had a steady foundation. His fingers itched at the thought of dusting off his tool box and having a go at the wiring panels. Yet he was bemused when Tamar announced that she was going to turn it into an entertainment venue for Imperial officers.

"Won't work," he said with a shake of his head. "You'll need two building permits and a 438 Gamma license-"

"Then I'll begin the data work immediately," Tamar insisted. She already had her data pad out and was leaning against the wall, filling out applications. Hogarth didn't be the one who wanted to break it to her but the odds of a Twi'lek running a business in the middle of an ideal Core planet were small.

She must have suspected what he was thinking because Tamar looked up from the pad and faced Hogarth.

"I'll admit it could take several months until the infernal bureaucracy finally lets me have this building." Her brow creased up as she spoke.

"But consider the situation, Hogarth. In these times a Twi'lek is considered an object of beauty. If I am going to market this building as a high-end venue, I will have to market myself as an exotic export from Ryloth. And what better way to serve the Empire's needs than with an elegant and tasteful place for its most distinguished officers to enjoy themselves under the gaze of their charming hostess?"

He scowled in response. "You don't approve?" she asked lightly.

"Damn right I don't!" he barked with sudden abruptness. "I mean, of course not, Miss Il'yan," he added in a lower tone. "Don't see the difference much between you putting yourself on display or being sold down the comet stream for a handful of credits to some slaver."

Surely she would frown and tell him that it was none of his business; that _she_ was the boss and he was merely a hired hand. Instead, Tamar appeared pleased with his answer.

"Of course there's no difference," she agreed. "But the Imperials don't know that, do they?"

It was as though some obscure part of Hogarth's mind that he hadn't used in years had suddenly turned itself on. He had spent enough time in Tamar's presence to pick up some of her habits and methods, to see worlds through her eyes. That meant looking not at the overwhelming odds but at the resources available, at the hidden potential that could be tapped into and burst forth from a wellspring of opportunities.

You didn't need an army to get yourself going. A brain that was willing to think and hands willing to work were good places to start. So why not begin right away?

"I think I've got it," Hogarth found himself saying. "They're going to look at you and think whatever they want to think. Might as well make them pay full price and keep your dignity intact."

Tamar gave him a slight nod. "Precisely," she agreed. Then she spread her hands out and gestured to the room. "That platform looks like it needs to have the paneling ripped out but its the right size for a stage. I can imagine tables here there," she pointed to various parts of the room.

"...and we'll have an exclusive area for our honored guests of the evening at the front wing."

"Our?" Hogarth repeated.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Of course. Providing you're interested in joining my project as a full-time associate. I'd rather hire people I trust."

"Associate." The word sounded professional and sophisticated on Hogarth's ears. Could he, the son of a Mid-Rim farmer, actually do more than be some lumbering hunk of moving meat? Was he just as batty as her to think that he'd actually sign on and join her in entertaining those hoddy-toddy Imps to earn a living?

"I could fix some of this up," he said at last. "Might have to hire a contractor for the bigger pieces."

"That would require a modest loan," Tamar agreed. "Now regarding entertainment, I'll start researching what the Ministry of Media and Broadcasting permits. We'll have some classical music from the Alderann orchestra too." She paused before returning her attention back to Hogarth.

"Do you know what Imperials like to drink?"

"Here and there," Hogarth shrugged. "You can find a recipe for anything by asking around."

"Then ask and we shall receive," Tamar concluded.

The next several months were hard if not grueling times of work. But Hogarth was so busy working on the future night club that he was too tired to go brawling at night. He was also too focused on listening to what the merchants and caterers of Iolanthe were saying (and boy did they talk!) to get himself shot back up on spice.

The epiphany came just a few weeks into the opening of the club but not long before Nava and Miri would join their little team. The club was filled with guests who were chattering freely among themselves when a lieutenant approached the bar and ordered his favorite drink.

Hogarth drew an icy glass out of their cooling compressor and carefully filled it with the golden bubbles of Correlian champagne. The lieutenant sipped it slowly with satisfaction.

"Mmm, a fine year," he concluded as he set the glass back down alongside his credit piece. "That Twi'lek does credit to the Empire. If only others were as cooperative as her, the galaxy would quickly reach its ideal age of peace."

Hogarth said nothing in the face of this pin-headed fool. He merely nodded in the affirmative and took the glass back to have it cleaned. At that moment, he realized that he had just been spoken to by a high-ranking officer and been tipped generously.

This was far further than anything Hogarth could have imagined for himself. Between rinsing glasses and getting out more bottles of champagne, he took a moment to glance around the glittering room that he and Tamar had labored so hard to create.

A steady job in the heart of the Empire. Who would have thought that was all it would take for Hogarth to make something of himself?

A-A-A

_Several years later:_

You win some, you lose some. You pick up the pieces and carry on.

Hogarth wasn't particularly attached to places or things but he was sure Tamar's pride was sore after she had been falsely accused of sabotaging Imperial prototype bombs and then had her business confiscated. Later on she admitted the Empire would have shut her down one way or another out of jealousy and she wouldn't waste another thought on it. But it took Hogarth several weeks to get over his anger.

Damn fools didn't know a blessing when it was right there at the tips of their noses but better the Empire should lose a businesswoman who could enrich them all than admit they misjudged a Twi'lek.

You lose a home, you gain a family.

He actually preferred working in their little kaff shop on Kaller where the clients were more like him, a bit rough around the edges and not used to standing on protocol. Tamar carried herself with as much charm and poise as if they were back on Iolanthe and would snap her fingers from time to time to keep Io and Nava from chattering nonstop.

"Teenagers," she muttered not-to-quietly under her breath. Hogarth turned his head to avoid her noticing his smile.

Now that the cafe was bringing in enough venue to support three Twi'leks and one human, Tamar's latest venture was finding resourceful ways to provide food and clothing for others who had fallen on bad times. Hogarth wished they had adequate space to grow a bigger garden on the cafe rooftop but Tamar compensated by turning their leftovers into care packages for people in the refugee district.

"Throwing it out will just attract bugs," she explained as she spread the last bits of jam on a heel of bread. "This will keep our cafe tidy and fully functional."

"Oh," Nava responded in awe. After all, Tamar was clever and the younger Twi'lek was determined to soak up every bit of knowledge possible in her presence.

But Io saw through the facade. "Why does Tamar work so hard to conceal her acts of charity?" she asked Hogarth in privacy.

"Because she knows people would feel ashamed to accept it," he told her. "Tamar wants to save them the embarrassment by making it look like they're helping her instead of the other way around."

"It seems a great deal of effort to do so little," Io deliberated.

"Have you ever eaten sand before? Or moldy milk or rotting fruit?" Hogarth asked her. Io shook her head. "Then you don't know what it is to feel so hungry that you'd put anything in your mouth to stay alive."

"You are right. Baron Sparr took excellent care of me," she confessed. "But now I know many Twi'lek women have sold themselves because they could not even buy food for their families. And Ezra Bridger used to be a thief on Lothal. I supposed being hungry makes people do dangerous things."

"Dangerous but not stupid. Hand me the double-wrench," he ordered her. Io picked up the tool and handed it to Hogarth, who was mending their aquatic tank.

In spite of her occasional abrupt comments, he found himself liking the petite purple kid. Hogarth knew Io had been pampered from childhood by the worst kind of person and only recently was attempting to earn Tamar's trust. She was making rapid progress but he knew she still struggled to do the right things and it made him more sympathetic to her personal mission.

Hogarth suspected that some of Io's motivation was inspired by more than platonic approval. In fact, he was willing to bet it had much to do with a pair of blue eyes in the face of a particular Jedi apprentice.

But that meant unnecessary harmful words and so Hogarth wisely kept his lips sealed.

A-A-A

_Four hours later:_

Hogarth stood in the center of the cafe along with Captain Hera Syndulla and Sabine Wren. Several large metal plates sat on the tables and Tamar was examining them curiously. Each one was several inches thick and rectangular-shaped with heavy grooves running through the metal.

"Is this why you wanted me to get Io and Nava out of the cafe?" asked Tamar. She had plied the girls with a handful of credits and knew they'd be out at the arcade for the rest of the afternoon while Hera addressed the Rebellion's current mission.

"These are printing plates for Imperial ration cards," Hera explained.

Tamar nearly jumped away from the table as if it was on fire. "Do you have any idea what the penalty is for stealing something like this?" she demanded.

"They weren't stolen," Sabine assured Tamar quickly. "We found them hidden in the floorboards of the Thundercloud smuggling ship. I think the captain planned on melting them down or using them to make counterfeit ration cards."

"Sabine was a cadet in the Imperial Academy and knows which inks and paints are used to print out the ration cards," Hera went on. "Regulations have tightened up food distribution in the Genomar sector but the locals are willing to barter medical supplies if we can provide them with something in return."

"Such as legal ration cards," Tamar concluded. Hera nodded in agreement. Calmer now and intrigued, Tamar lightly tapped her mouth with her index finger. "Cloning currency. It still sounds risky to me."

"No more than our usual line of work," said Sabine with a slight grin.

"Providing that you don't get caught, my next concern is that you may end up printing too many cards," Tamar warned them. "An overflow of these cards could ruin their value in the long run."

"Inflation," added Sabine. "Their value could go down." Tamar was dutifully impressed by the young Mandalorian's intelligence.

"Pardon me," Hogarth heard himself say. He nearly turned crimson when the three ladies turned their heads to him but managed to get his question out. "But won't the Empire get suspicious if they start running out of food supplies fast?"

He was sure it wasn't his place to inquire such things but to his relief, Captain Syndulla appeared to be on the same page as himself.

"We were equally concerned and asked Senator Organa and Count Caswell for advice. Highest authority confirms that there's adequate grain and meat in Genomar's warehouses and this year's bumper crops can confirm that the planet can feed itself."

"Let me guess: the Empire wants to step up their regulations for the sake of protocol," Tamar suggested dryly. "And in an attempt to keep prices stabilized, they're demanding ration cards to prevent people from buying too much."

Hera nodded in confirmation and Hogarth watched his boss groan aloud. If there was one thing Tamar detested it was bureaucracy. The Empire would rue the day they started regulating her stock of kaff beans.

"The good news is that we can print enough cards to help the locals before the winter season without putting a noticeable dent in Imperial databases," Sabine said with optimism. "And some of those grains are hybrids that can be grown indoors. Just an extra cupful or two of it can be planted and feed a family for months at a time."

"That much, eh?" Hogarth was warming to the mission quickly. "So how are you going to get ration cards to Genomar?"

Hera keyed in some codes and the hologram of a building sprang up from her data pad. "Ezra and Kanan have already infiltrated the Imperial science academy on Genomar and smuggled the plates into the students' wing. I was hoping Mr. Lang would consider joining our friends to make sure they, and the plates, get out safely in a few days' time."

Three pairs of female eyes went to Hogarth who was instantly dumbstruck. The calm focused attention of Captain Syndulla could have knocked him over with a feather.

He was flattered—no, honored to be given this opportunity. And by the infamous Captain Syndulla, no less. Hogarth fumbled for a decent response while Hera was concerned his silence was a message of regret.

"I don't mean to be blunt," she added quickly. "But Tamar vouched for your character and you were the best candidate I considered on such short notice."

"I'll do it," he managed to finally blurt out. Hogarth might have had a big silly grin on his face but kriff, a city of people needed those ration cards _and_ he could give Captain Syndulla a helping hand _and_ work alongside Jedi.

Bodyguard, bartender, associate, kaff-maker, and now freelance rebel. _"Mom and Dad, if only you could see me now_ ," he thought.

Things were definitely looking up for Hogarth Lang.

A-A-A

_Science Department of Imperial Academy, section D-39 / Genomar  
_

Ezra Bridger. Lieutenant, rebel officer, occasional pilot, and padawan of Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight.

Current babysitter to Loth-kits.

It wasn't the most difficult task he had taken on but this assignment was getting tedious. For the sixteenth (or was it the seventeenth?) time that day, he used his fingers to pry the kit's mouth open and squeeze in several drops of milk using a syringe.

Genomar's science academy was nothing to sneeze about but it had taken Chopper quite a few hours to hack into the system so that Ensign Kay Dunam (no relation to Ezra Bridger whatsoever) could make the swift transfer into the recent student body. As an extra precaution, Ezra had taken an injection that temporarily darkened his eyes to deep brown and his scars had been covered up with a touch of face paint.

Now he found himself fussing over a litter of babies that should never have been this far from Lothal. However, Ensign Allister Thrush insisted he had found them in an abandoned transporter and was now eager to nurse the little creatures back to help. Thrush's intentions were twofold: he was obsessed with animals and approval. Having quickly befriended Kay Dunam, Thrush confessed his desire was to develop his modest but growing menagerie until it could be presented to the Imperial Culture Council in several years time.

Now he rubbed his hands together eagerly as Ezra finished feeding milk to the Loth-kit The feisty creature tried clawing at him but fortunately the gloves protected Ezra's skin from getting punctured. It let out a tiny shriek and then wriggling freely, scampering back around the cage.

"I cannot tell you how much this means to me," Thrush gushed at his colleague. "Seven Loth-kits all at once! The Council will be thrilled if we can give them the full healthy litter along with the other animals." He gestured to several other tanks and cages of well-fed and carefully-groomed creatures.

The padawan just tugged on his uniform collar and forced a smile on his face. "I'm happy to help out, Allister. How about we take a break and finally get something to eat?"

He knew by now that Thrush refused to take in a meal until his creatures were fed first. He might be an Imp, and a paranoid one at that, but at least he was taking decent care of the animals under his attention. That fact was one that Ezra couldn't ignore.

Being in the cafeteria wasn't any easier than pacifying Thrush. Taller cadets jabbed their elbows into Ezra's chest and faked apologies. Several simpering girls tried fluttering their eyelashes at Ezra but he did his best to ignore them. Someone stuck out their foot in an attempt to trip him. Thankfully, his Jedi reflexes prevented Ezra from colliding against the ground.

"They're just jealous of us," Allister muttered under his breath as he passed his tray down the line. "Nobody else got such high marks in intergalactic zoology."

Ezra tried to nod and listen but out of the corner of his eye he could see cadets dumping their half-empty trays into the disposal bins with boredom. His fingers instantly curled tightly into his tray. Didn't they know how much food they were wasting? He watched the maintenance droid whisk away the disposal bin and thought of how many cartons of milk and uneaten sandwiches were on their way to the incinerator.

 _"Meanwhile the locals will be counting out every single mouthful,"_ he thought bitterly. _"And they can't pickpocket their meals the way I used to do it on Lothal."_

He could sense a dull ringing in his ears from the anger that simmered beneath the surface. Ezra tried to focus on scooping a pile of mashed tubers onto his plate while Allister continued to rattle on.

"...which is probably why we'll be having a guest speaker in the schedule. Governor Pryce won't tell us yet but based on updated security protocols—"

"Are you deaf as well as blind?" a teen female voice shrilled loudly. Her sharp tone caused Ezra to jerk his head to where Kanan was standing before a shouting cadet. The Jedi wore the gray jumpsuit of a maintenance worker and had a stack of trays in his hand.

"Tivash again." Allister clicked his tongue. "She's found new prey to hunt down."

Ezra starred in horror as Tivash continue to rant to Kanan. "Idiot!" she snapped. "How many times did I tell you to let me know when the calcium cubes are running low?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized in a soft tone. "It's just been so busy that-"

"How many times!? _"_ she nearly screamed.

"I, I think four."

" _Five_ ," she corrected him crisply. "As head prefect of this academy I expect adequate results. But what else can I expect from a stupid lump of human flesh? A class D4 droid could do a better job than you!"

Hogarth, wearing an identical uniform, had come out of the back room and had a clean cloth in his hands. He instinctively took a step closer and nodded respectfully to Tivash. "Needn't shout at him, ensign. He's got a lot of duties to carry out and I'll make sure he gets back on track."

Tivash turned her wrath from Kanan to Hogarth. "How _dare_ you talk back to me! One inept janitor and one handicapped maintenance guard should not be holding up the entire academy!" Tivash shook her fist in each of their faces. "The next time we are running low, you will tell me immediately or I'll have you both thrown out within the hour! Is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Kanan responded in a monotone voice.

"Yes ma'am," Hogarth agreed.

The flare in Tivash's cheeks finally seemed to ebb down. With a slight snarl she yanked on her collar and then stormed off in the opposite direction. The other cadets went back to chattering among themselves and even Allister barely registered the fight. He merely turned on his datapad and dug into his food.

Ezra could feel his rage bubbling up and ready to overflow. His hands were trembling with fury. It would take just one small nudge, one tip of a chair or spill of water, to send Tivash crashing to the ground. Or better yet, mentally throw her against the wall until she was pinned like the writhing insect that she was. He stood immobilized as he glared at her from across the room to where Tivash was now chatting casually with her friends.

Kanan could feel the negative emotions rippling off Ezra like flares from a star. "Go to him," he urged Hogarth. "Before he does something we'll all regret."

The man hastily piled some milk cartons onto a tray and brought them over to Ezra's table. "Growing young man like you must be thirsty," he said aloud in a hearty cheery voice. When he realized nobody else was paying attention, Hogarth placed a hand on Ezra's shoulder. The padawan's face was so red that Hogarth was surprised his jacket hadn't caught on fire.

"Did you see that?" he whispered fiercely to Hogarth. "Did you see what she just did?"

"I did, Ezra. Take a deep breath," Hogarth urged him.

"How can I breathe when she just humiliated him in front of everyone?" Ezra's voice raised up enough to make a few cadet heads turn in surprise at Dunam's attitude.

Hogarth whipped out his cloth and feigned wiping Ezra's collar. "Sorry about that spill, ensign. We'll get you cleaned up in no time." He half-escorted, half-lead Ezra out of the cafeteria and into a private corridor where they could talk in privacy.

Ezra had reached the end of his patience by now. He snatched the cap off his head and slammed it to the ground. "How dare she!" he fumed. "Who the kriff does Tivash think that she is? If I see her again I'm going to—"

Before Hogarth could stop him, the padawan had driven his fist into the wall. Pain flared up in his eyes and he yanked it back, shaking his hand madly. Further curses flew from Ezra's mouth in low frantic mutterings.

Hogarth couldn't let the kid go on like this. He clamped a hand on Ezra's shoulder, spun him around, and looked him in the eye.

"Breathe," he ordered Ezra. " _Now_."

The firmness in his tone caused Ezra to suck in air through his nose. His chest rose up, air and heat rising from within, and then he finally drew it out between his lips. The flare within brown eyes began to ebb away.

"That's it, good. Keep breathing." Hogarth kept his hand on the teen's shoulder as he watched and made sure Ezra was doing exactly as he said, drawing in and out several more breaths until he could regain control of himself. "No good to us if you go in half-assed and punch her lights out, right?" Hogarth asked.

"No," Ezra admitted. When he seemed to have calmed down enough, Hogarth finally released his grip on the padawan. The young man rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I'm sorry about that, Hogarth. Kanan's my master and when I saw her screaming her head off at him like that I just-" Ezra stopped talking as he fumbled for words.

Hogarth knew how tough it was to find the right thing to say. "You know what he's about but she doesn't," he suggested at last. "None of those officers do. No point in trying to change them 'cuz they won't."

Ezra's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I know." His mournful expression made him look more like a kicked puppy than an undercover rebel.

But he was only seventeen and Hogarth couldn't see anyone else taking on as much as Ezra Bridger had in a few short years. Kriff, so much for Hogarth impressing a Jedi right now in the middle of a mission.

The _mission_. Damnit, this was about those ration cards, not their pride. Hogarth had to stay on track.

"Kanan's not hurt and that's what's important," he pointed out. "We just need you to put up with the likes of Tivash and Thrush for a little while longer. Think a Jedi like you can carry on? For Kanan's sake?"

The last of his words must have made an impact because the glow in Ezra's eyes began to return and his face at last relaxed. Ezra nodded in agreement.

"That's the spirit." Hogarth lightly punched him in the shoulder. "You go wash up. I'll meet you in the lab tonight."

A-A-A

_Later:_

Hogarth drew the confiscated code cylinder out of his pocket and jabbed it into the security lock. The rotating gears sounded too loud as they clicked in response but the door finally opened without disturbing the silence. He slipped into Thrush's animal laboratory to find Era waiting for him.

"Curfew went into effect two hours ago," Ezra assured him. "Kanan's getting our transport ready as I speak."

"Sounds good. Where'd you put the plates?"

There was an awkward pause. "The good news is that none of the cadets or staff have found them yet," Ezra began.

"And the bad news?"

Ezra pointed to six enormous rectangular tanks of water placed upon the desks. Dozens of tiny crab-like gray creatures were skittering up and down the sides of their tanks. Hogarth squinted closer and saw several inches of black sand in the bottom of every tank.

The burly man starred in disbelief. "That's where you hid them?"

"It was the best I could do with our deadline," Ezra explained.

"Like I said, what's the bad news?"

"Allister said that greknos should never be out of the water or else they get 'toxic'," the padawan explained.

"Toxic?"

"He didn't explain further."

"Ah-ha." Hogarth scratched his head. "So how do we the plates out without bothering the greknos?"

"Transfer them from one tank to another?"

"The sooner the better," he agreed.

It was messy and heavy work. But Ezra managed to find a spare tank and with the carefullest of motions, washed it out and set it down beside the tank full of fretful greknos. It took all of his energy, along with Hogarth, to lift the first tank of water and diligently pour the contents into the empty tank. The greknos' tiny pincers clicked with irritation but they managed to travel through the flow of water from the first tank to the second. Smoothing away the heavy wet sand, Hogarth was relieved to see the shine of silver plates beneath it. They managed to stack two plates aside and then move onto the next tank.

The teen's hand loosened on the third tank and several cupfuls of water splashed on the tiles.

"Sorry!" Ezra hissed. He was obviously agitated at this point. As annoyed as Hogarth was at their circumstances, he knew taking it out on the kid wasn't going to help them or make it easier.

"S'fine, just keep going," Hogarth whispered.

"Wait!" Ezra stopped in place. Sure enough, they could hear footsteps in the corridor drawing closer to them.

"Must be Governor Pryce!" he whispered. They set the half-full tank of water back on the counter. "Hogarth, get behind the desks!"

"What about you?"

"I'll get demerits, that's all," he assured Hogarth. "She can't recognize me." Just for precautions, Ezra jabbed his cap down over his head and pulled the brim down as far as it could go. Hogarth dropped to the floor and crouched on all fours.

The security locks clicked and whirled and then there was the sound of doors parting. But the voice that came out wasn't Governor Pryce.

"Tivash?" Ezra blurted out. "Um, what are you doing here? It's after curfew."

"I might ask you the same question, Dunam." Her voice was surprisingly light and sweet in contrast to her previous rantings in the cafeteria. She reached behind her head and ran her fingers through her short blonde hair.

"I thought I heard a noise and wanted to make sure that Thrush's animals were safe," he explained. Ezra quickly patted the top of one tank.

"Hmmm." Tivash studied the tank and then looked back at Ezra. From his hiding position, Hogarth was starting to get a bad feeling. Tivash was eyeing Ezra as if he was a tasty morsel.

"You're very close with him, aren't you?" Tivash asked playfully.

"We work well together," he mumbled. "Say, why don't we go back to our dormitories and keep this under wraps?"

"Sounds nice. But I'd rather do some unwrapping tonight, brown eyes." Tivash quickly drew closer to Ezra and draped a hand on his shoulder.

"Um, what are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" She leaned closer, lips pursed up and aiming for Ezra's face. He quickly stepped back and put his hands in front of him for defense.

"No no," he protested. "We can't do that here."

"I agree," Tivash said. "We can do it better on the second floor." She was still advancing towards Ezra who was scrambling around the desks to avoid her.

"Nowhere! Nothing is going to happen between us!" he snapped. Force, why did this have to happen to him now? Did he have some kind of pheromone that attracted crazy girls or did the Force send out a flare suggesting he was easy bait?

"What's the matter, Dunam? Don't you know easy when you see it?" Tivash cocked her head to one side. "Let me guess. You and Thrush are more than just friends, right? You must 'swing' the other way."

"I don't!"

"Prove it!" She cornered him around a desk and then pounced on him like a hungry animal. Tivash must have learned from Governor Pryce because Ezra was rammed up against the wall with alarming force and elbows pinned in place. He jerked his head to one side to avoid contact. But that didn't stop Tivash's lips from dragging across his cheek in a wet sloppy kiss. Ezra's face scrunched up as she began grinding her hips against him.

"Come on, Dunam!" she hissed. Her voice was laced with lust and anger as she shoved herself against him. "I know you want this!"

Hogarth wasn't going to wait any longer to get results. He bolted up from behind the desk and lunged for Tivash. She whirled around when she heard him coming and opened her mouth showing rows of shiny teeth. "Get out!" she shrilled.

It would've taken one easy jab to her forehead to knock her out. But before Hogarth could make his move, Tivash had jammed her palms into his chest and sent him staggering backwards. His body knocked clumsily against the desks.

One full tank collided with another and with a loud crashing sound, they both collided onto the floor. Thousands of pieces of glass went scattering across the tiles, swept further by the rushing madness of spilled water while the grecknos began scampering out of the room on rapid minuscule feet.

Tivash didn't seem to care about this escalating disaster. She just glared at the tiny grecknos. "So much for Thrush's pet project." Then she smirked at Hogarth. "I'll have Governer Pryce ship you off to the Outer Rim."

This time he was ready for her.

_WHAM!  
_

Tivash was sent sprawling against the ground and landed in a mess of limbs and tangled yellow hair. The few remaining greknos scurried over Tivash's body and out the door.

"Uh-oh." Ezra and Hogarth were dumbstruck for a moment and then realized the mission was still incomplete. Hogarth lunged for the broken tanks and began hoisting the last of the plates off the floors.

"Don't worry," Ezra tried to assure him. "We've gotten out of tougher situations before."

"Keep moving!" Hogarth snapped back. They managed to lift up the slab and stack it with the others just as the dormitory alarms started going off.

_WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP!_

Ezra peeked into the hallway to see cadets stumbling into the corridors, some in their standard gray sleepwear, others surprisingly still in their uniforms. Everyone was blinking in confusion but soon one girl's scream set off a chain reaction that made everyone panic as they dodged and ducked the oncoming grecknos under their feet.

"What are you doing?!" Thrush had popped into the laboratory with haste and was now in Ezra's face, vivid with rage. "We have to get them back in their tanks at once!"

"Uh, is that normal?" Ezra pointed to several grecknos scuttling beneath the library doors. Was it just his imagination or could he see tiny bits of smoke coming off their shells.

"That's just the start of what happens when they're exposed to oxygen!" Allister fumed.

"What happens next?"

"Dunam, how many times do I have to tell you about the spontaneous combu-"

The doors to the library were ripped off and billowing clouds of smoke filling the corridors. The alarm grew louder and Ezra and Hogarth had to cover their ears to avoid damaging their eardrums. The grecknos continue to crash into each other, sending more smoke crawling from the floors up to everyone's knees and then chests.

Such was the state of things when Governor Pryce strode into the corridor and witnessed the coughing cadets running amok.

Two hissing and steaming greknos scurried up to her feet. Pryce stepped backwards hastily but there was a distinct cracking sound when their shells collided and then the smell of brimstone hit her nose. She was instantly enveloped in smoke and chocking for air.

When she managed to stagger out of the smoke cloud, Pryce gained a lungful of air and shouted, "Ensign Thrush!"

"G-g-governer?" he stammered. He looked up from where he had been chasing the greknos with a long clawed instrument.

"Get these filthy creatures under control immediately!" she barked.

"Yes, ma'am. At once, ma'am," he stammered meekly.

Several stormtroopers arrived at the scene and began ushering the cadets outside while Governor Pryce used her credentials to shut down the alarms and switch power to the overhead fans. Her rigid conduct managed to get some of the chaos under control until she noticed two familiar figures scrambling in the opposite direction of the cadets. The tall one with dark hair in a ponytail and an ensign were moving a transporter stacked with metal plates...

"Jedi!" she snarled. Pryce charged for the two rebels but Hogarth raced behind her and clobbered the Imperial officer in a tackle. Pryce placed both palms on the floor and easily hoisted herself back up into a fighting stance. He was instantly covered with sharp kicks and punches that knocked the breath out of his chest. He hadn't been prepared for an Imp trained for military combat and though she was smaller than him, Pryce was far faster and more agile.

She finally drove her knee into his chest which sent a flare of pain through Hogarth's rib cage. He cursed between his teeth and staggered to keep his knees from giving out beneath him. Pryce assessed the scarred disheveled man quickly. _"Not even a Jedi or a rebel_ ," she thought with disgust. _  
_

"Gutter trash," she concluded with a sneer.

"Space kritch," Hogarth muttered back. _"Such language!"_ his mother would have scolded him. He didn't care. Hogarth may not have had a Clone-bred program or an Imperial education but he had nearly twenty years of street brawling to teach him one thing: there are no rules in a fight.

He let Pryce lunge at him first and then began dodging her blows, letting the governor tire herself out for nearly a minute while he blocked her punches and protected his face. Pryce grew more agitated when she realized he wasn't slowing down and tried to up her game, leaping in the air to deliver a painful kick to his head.

It was just the opening Hogarth needed. He reached out and clamped his hands around her ankle. Using all of his energy and her momentum, Hogarth brought both arms down and swung around with his might. The sound of her screeching through air was oddly satisfying as Hogarth finally let go. Pryce went flying through air and crashed into Tivash. Both women went slamming against the wall and then collapsed in painful defeat.

Hogarth wiped the sweat off his face and looked up to see Ezra waving his hands frantically at him. "There's someone still trapped in the central lab!" he called out.

"Go help them," Kanan assured Ezra. "Hogarth, lend a hand?"

"Gladly." He raced to the Jedi's side and was soon pushing the transporter out to where Sabine and Chopper had hijacked and re-wired an Imperial shuttle. While everyone else got the plates loaded, Hogarth raced back into the building to see Ezra emerging from the unfurling smoke.

A taller man was leaning on Ezra for support with an arm draped around the padawan's shoulder. It took Hogarth a moment to realize that the Jedi was in the process of rescuing an Imperial, not one in military gear but nevertheless, someone in a science uniform. This man was on the side of their adversaries but even with his hands full, Ezra Bridger was risking his life to save another person.

The kid never failed to amaze Hogarth.

"What are you doing now?" Thrush had staggered back into the building and was hoping around madly with a bucket of greknos in one hand. "Ensign Dunam, you should be helping me save my menagerie first!"

"Little busy here," Ezra grunted.

Ignoring the weakened man by Ezra's side, Thrush continued to whine like a toddler. "I'm sure he's fine, Dunam! I haven't gotten all the greknos rounded and the Loth-kits will be helpless without-"

Ezra saw Hogarth's face flare red and then he slammed Thrush to the ground. The bucket tipped over and the greknos scurried away but the big burly man had other things on his mind than some space crabs. He had unstrapped his belt in the blink of an eye. Seizing Thrush by the shoulder, he kept the ensign pinned down and proceeded to flog his backside. Thrush whimpered and wailed from the blows as Hogarth brought his belt down again and again.

"Hogarth!" Ezra called out. He glanced once at the man he was supporting who seemed to be regaining his breath. "I, I'm all right," the man assured Ezra. He nodded weakly as Ezra slipped the man's arm off his shoulders and raced to Hogarth. The science officer watched the burly man stop hitting Thrush when Ezra gestured for him to stop. The madness flitted out of his eyes and Hogarth dropped the belt, startled as the realizations of his actions came over him.

The two of them raced out of the building and into the transporter. The science officer was left with the groaning Thrush while four more greknos scuttled off the floor.

A-A-A

_1 hour later:_

Governor Pryce could have sworn Grand Admiral Thrawn was smirking through the audio message but she refused to reveal her annoyance.

 _"As long as your guest was not injured then that is the crucial outcome,_ " his smooth even voice came through the speakers. _"And it was fortunate that the rebels did not succeed to capture him."_

"Agreed," Pryce echoed. She switched off the transmission and turned to Thrush, who seemed to shrink into his uniform beneath her enraged expression. Next to him, Tivash was studying her feet to avoid making eye contact with Pryce.

"We were going to have the privilege of being addressed by one of the greatest members of the Imperial Science Department," Pryce began in a testy voice. "But your bumbling mannerisms and lack of efficiency have disgraced this academy!"

Tivash opened her mouth. "Governor, I swear it wasn't my fault. Thrush here was-"

"-I didn't do anything!" he protested.

 _"Silence!"_ Pryce snapped. They shut their mouths obediently. She clasped her hands behind her back and began to pace before the cadets. "While you two were preoccupied with your selfish personal matters, three members of the Rebel Alliance infiltrated this academy and nearly succeeded in capturing Galen Erso. We cannot allow such neglect to go unpunished."

She glanced down at them. The officers nodded their heads woodenly. "You will each receive eight demerits and have all privileges revoked for the remainder of the term. And Ensign Thrush, you will dismantle your so-called 'menagerie' at once or else be expelled from the academy. Do I make myself clear?"

When they nodded again, Pryce finally allowed herself a moment of satisfaction to know that her authority still left the proper impression on the lower officers. "Dismissed," she finally said in a cooler voice. They shuffled out the room meekly. Satisfied to some extent, Pryce rubbed her gloved palms together and then addressed her guest who had been sitting in the background with a surprisingly calm demeanor.

Pryce had overheard that Galen Erso's social skills were sub-par but she chalked that up to his diligent work ethics. It was crucial that he and his brilliant mind were safe and still in good service to the Empire. Still, Governor Pryce wished he had expressed at least some degree of anger in front of the students. Perhaps _he_ could have inspired them to behave better.

She turned to him with a spine of restored confidence. "My apologies for this unfortunate circumstance," Pryce said in a cool tone. "I would have hoped that this academy could have made a better impression on you."

"Not to worry," Erso responded in a mild tone. If she didn't know better, Pryce would have thought he was reassuring her. "The important thing is that everyone is unharmed."

"Unharmed but still incompetent," she muttered in return.

"In my experience it is better to make errors in youth than in adulthood," Erso suggested softly. "As long as the students take your discipline to heart, I am confident that they will progress into ideal officers."

She found his optimism childish but respectfully held her tongue.

"I hope you are correct," she said at last. Pryce gestured to the dozen stormtroopers that would be escorting Galen back to his shuttle. He allowed himself to be marched into the Imperial ship and whisked away back into the bleakness of space. Very soon he would be back on Eadu doing the very thing he had risked his life and his family not to do. It was a bleak future that lay head of him.

In spite of everything, Galen wanted to laugh at the moment. It had been such a long time since anything had amused him and his mind easily played back the last few hours fiasco. The sight of all those students running around like a clan of rampa-ants was entertaining as was seeing Governor Pryce's face when she had been humiliated in front of her inferiors. He was relieved they weren't hurt but it was still a refreshing experience and a welcomed change after these long dark years.

_And the boy...  
_

Galen's mind rewound and continued to play over the image of the brown-eyed teen who had found him on all fours coughing from the smoke. Pryce had said he was a rebel and yet the boy had raced to Galen's side and helped him out of the room as if he was an old friend. That small gesture of a young shoulder supporting Galen's weight had made his heart feel light and free even as he was gasping for air in the smoky room.

_Would she be as tall as him by now? Would her eyes share his coloring or remain the same as he remembered her?_

He wanted to laugh but realized that he had forgotten how. It had been years since he had felt a genuine smile come over his face or appreciated the merest hint of beauty in the universe. Darkness and secrets had been his closets allies and now he could not summon the emotion forward to make himself appreciate the fleeting sensation of joy.

Galen Erso dropped his head between his knees and began to weep.

_Stardust._

A-A-A

_4 days later aboard the Ghost:_

While Sabine admired her handiwork and the citizens of Genomar joyfully found rations cards packed into the bottom of transport barrels, Ezra had been fussing away in the Ghost's tiny kitchen. Kanan had tried to listen in twice that morning but Ezra shooed him away, insisting that Kanan shouldn't come in yet until Ezra was done with his 'surprise'.

When his padawan finally gave the approval, Kanan slid into a chair. He heard a plate clink against the table and then felt steam rising from beneath his chin. A sweet rich aroma filled the small room, nearly intoxicating with richness.

"Ezra, what is this?"

"An Iolanthe favorite. It's a cream roll!" Ezra exclaimed. "Hogarth taught me how to make them."

Kanan slowly rotated the plate the around. "This must have taken you a long time," he said slowly.

"I know. The dough has to rise twice and the cream is best from scratch."

The Jedi tilted his head up with surprise. "But why?"

"I felt bad about how those cadets mistreated you. You're a Jedi Knight and my master," Ezra insisted. "You deserve to be treated with respect." He poured a cup of kaff and placed it next to Kanan's plate.

"You enjoy breakfast. I'll check on the engines." With a smile of assurance, Ezra left the stunned Jedi to enjoy his meal.

Kanan cut a piece of the roll and carefully placed it into his mouth. The crisp thin layers of dough and creamy filling nearly melted on his tongue. He tried to swallow and managed, though with far more effort than he anticipated. He tried to take another bite but stopped halfway, aware that that discomfort in his throat was preventing him from doing so. He put down his fork.

Why was it so hard for him to accept this? Force, it was just a pastry! Why couldn't he just eat it and be done with it?

The truth came out as soon as he had asked the question. _You're uncomfortable with Ezra's gift. It's awkward accepting something from your padawan because it should be the other way around._

He tentatively took a smaller bite, this time chewing slower than before. He could almost perceive the effort Ezra had put into it, randomly spilling sugar and fretfully kneading the dough, and it made him feel more uncomfortable.

_You're not used to being pampered. But this isn't about you.  
_

He could just imagine Ezra hunched over the Ghost's tiny oven operator and hovering frantically, hoping that the pastry would come out fine.

It was more than fine. It was incredible, and not just because it tasted good. It was because Ezra had worked hard to give him something, just Kanan, to enjoy. He had put respect, labor, and love into his work. _That_ was what Kanan was tasting.

_At least enjoy it for his sake._

Yes, he could certainly do that. He would be no suitable Jedi master to decline a padawan's thoughtfulness. If Ezra made this for him, he would finish up every crumb. The conviction motivated Kanan to resume eating and he dug back into the pastry.

"That was amazing," he told Ezra when it was finished. Kanan wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Really? Great!" He could feel Ezra's smile beaming from across the table. "I'll clean up." Before Kanan could protest, Ezra had picked up his master's cup and plate and placed it into the sink "Thanks, Kanan."

"For what? You're the one who baked it."

"Yeah, but I'm lucky to have the chance to do something for my master. We're usually busy with missions and I know we don't have the time or resources to do fancy things. So thank you for letting me have this opportunity."

Kanan was speechless. What else could he say to a seventeen year old with such a selfless and thoughtful perception?

"You're welcome."

The door behind them opened up and Hera's presence entered the room like a flicker of sunlight. She was accompanied by the surprising rustle of simmer-silk swirling around her legs.

"Oh, Hera!" Ezra exclaimed. "Wow, you look, um..."

"Not another word," she cut him off. "I am _never_ wearing such a ridiculous outfit again."

"Didn't your meeting with Count Caswell go all right?" he asked.

"His financial support to the Rebellion is helpful," Hera answered. "It's his colleagues that I had to woo with charming words. We got the resources we needed but that meant talking for two hours in a dress that makes far too much noise." She nearly collapsed into a seat and moaned with relief when she pulled off the high-heeled shoes. Hera wriggled her toes gratefully.

Kanan turned to face her and placed a hand on the back of his chair. "Why not send someone else?"

"I would have liked nothing better than let Mon Mothma handle this mission. But Caswell's contacts were piqued by my father's actions on Ryloth," she explained. "It was clear that General Syndulla's daughter had to make an appearance in order to convince them of the Rebellion's progress. Too bad I couldn't have sent Tamar in my place."

"I take it she had some part of the overall project," Kanan suggested.

"She was generous to hem and loan the dress to me. I was hoping Zeb could take it back to Kaller during his next shore leave."

Ezra wouldn't let Kanan clean anything up so the Jedi Knight followed Hera to her room while she was still fumbling with the infernal buttons.

"Can I help?" he offered.

She let out a sigh of exasperation but let Kanan stand behind her. His fingers moved deftly over the buttons, realizing they weren't the usual small round hard type but delicate ribbons that tied together. Diligently and slowly, his nails worked out the bits of ribbon until they came loose. "There's a knot in this one," Kanan said at last.

"Can you undo it?" Hera nearly was exasperated. But then there was the lightest flicker of the Force and the scrap of silk gave way, allowing Hera to start slipping the dress off her shoulder. She stopped long enough to glance at Kanan, knowing fully well that he couldn't see her. Yet she was grateful when he respectfully turned around to face the wall while she finished changing.

Simmer-silk murmured as the dress pooled to the floor. Hands hastily snatched it up and placed it on a hanger.

"Tamar would be furious if I got wrinkles in this thing," Hera muttered. Then came the sound of thick fabric being unfolded, the thumping of boots on the ground, and then the clicking of zippers and fastening of belts.

"Ah..." Hera sighed blissfully to be back in her pilot's uniform. "Tamar may call them the 'finer things in life' but nothing beats your own uniform and your own ship."

"Sometimes we have to step outside our comfort zone for the sake of others," Kanan said aloud thoughtfully.

Hera tilted her head to one side. "What's brought on this pearl of wisdom, Jedi Knight?"

"It's just 'Kanan Jarrus' at your service." Facing her, he let Hera drape her arms around his shoulders.

He was surprised when Hera's lips suddenly touched his mouth in a kiss, then he felt her tongue lightly brush over his lower lip. This sudden display of affection sent a sizzle of lightning through Kanan's bloodstream.

"You had some honey on your mouth," she smiled. "And looks like you had some crumbs in your beard." She used her fingers to smooth out the hairs on his chin.

"Ezra made me breakfast."

"Did he?" Hera beamed with pride. "That's sweet."

"You think so?"

"Of course."

"I wish he hadn't through all the trouble," Kanan admitted. He felt relieved to be able to express his thoughts to Hera as his fingertips lightly traced her wrists.

"Why not? You are his teacher, after all."

"I know. It just feels strange."

"You were on your own for a long time before we met, love. I can imagine it's odd having someone else take care of you for a change," Hera suggested. She flicked a tiny stray crumb that had fallen onto his collar. "But it's okay to accepting a gesture of thoughtfulness, especially if it's from someone who cares about you. It means you're special to them."

Hera knew how to say the right thing just to put him back on track and he pressed his lips to hers in gratitude.

When they had broken out of the kiss, Hera lifted herself upon her tiptoes and whispered into Kanan's ear. "Can I something sweet for you too, love?"

"Only if you put the dress back on," he teased her.

Hera let out a playful laugh and batted Kanan's head with a pillow.

A-A-A

"Some kind people may not look kind. They may look severe, or strict, or even bossy…but inside them there was a big dam of kindness, as there is inside so many people like the great dam to the south of Gaborone, ready to release its healing waters."

– _The Double Comfort Safari Club_ by Alexander McCall Smith

A-A-A

_Kaller:_

"Don't get too attached to that animal," Tamar warned Io. "It stays three weeks and not a day more."

"If you get to take care of 'Runt' then our droid gets extra time with me," Nava insisted.

Io knew they were both setting limitations for her but at the moment she didn't care. Loth-cats were fiercely independent creatures and once on their homeworld, they could easily adapt to their surroundings. Runt still had some growing to do so it was with great reluctance that Tamar let the Loth-kit stay with them for a few weeks.

For stars sake, how had Hogarth managed to smuggle it out of an Imperial academy when all hell had broken loose?

What mattered is that 'Runt' needed a safe environment until his ears were big enough and then he could be dropped off into the grassy hills of Lothal. Tamar couldn't say 'no' to Ezra's request but she wasn't thrilled about having a wild animal as a house guest, especially one that could shed and bite. Ezra assured her that Runt was too small to cause them much trouble but Tamar would only be appeased when Io promised to take full responsibility for the Loth-kit.

"I don't want to see so much as a single strand of hair in our kaff, understood?" Tamar told Io.

The smaller Twi'lek nodded and then brought the kit up to her face, letting the soft fur brush against her cheek. "Pussykins knows what's best for himself," she cooed. Io was pleased to have a personal assignment tied to Ezra's homeworld.

Runt squirmed uncomfortably until Io rubbed two fingers across the back of his neck. His pointy ears slicked back and he let out a tiny purr of pleasure to be soothed by her touch.

"That's better, Runt." Animals weren't as difficult to understand as she thought. Io brought Runt down to the wooden box and folded blanket that would be his bed. "You continue to behave nicely and we'll tell the Jeh-di how well we take care of you, right?" Runt pedaled his paws frantically until she set down a teacup full of milk and then he propped himself up, lapping his dinner greedily.

Tamar was preoccupied when she heard Hogarth's voice coming from over their heads. She took the stairs to the roof and opening up the door that lead outside.

Sure enough, Hogarth was sitting on the concrete ground with Captain Orrellios and a white-bearded man who had just answered to the name of Rex. They were all holding sabaac cards and using old data chips instead of credits.

"What are you three doing up here?" Tamar asked.

"It's my night off," Hogarth insisted. "You said so yourself, boss."

"I know. But why are you playing sabacc on the roof?"

"No gambling in the cafe," he reminded her.

Her eyebrows arched up. "That rule is to keep customers from turning it into a casino den," Tamar explained.

"Yeah but if others catch us playin' then they may get ideas," Zeb said. "Better we have a bit of fun out of sight."

"That doesn't mean you three have to freeze out here," Tamar insisted. "You can use my office instead."

"Oh no, ma'am," Rex said politely. "We wouldn't want to trouble you anymore when you've got your hands full as it is."

"Nonsense," the Twi'lek declared. "There are two able-bodied girls helping me downstairs and the office will give you complete privacy."

Tamar left the door halfway open and headed back down into the cafe. Zeb and Rex glanced at each other, unsure if it was protocol to accept the offer, before looking at Hogarth.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure beats playing up here," he said at last. "Even if it is cold enough to ice off your-"

"-cannons," Zeb suggested. Hogarth chuckled in response.

Ten minutes later they were seated around the desk in Tamar's office. The room was a snug fit but it was definitely brighter and more comfortable than the roof. While Io and Nava dutifully helped Tamar in the front of the cafe, the trio swapped cards, stories, and jokes. Hogarth let out a roar of laughter when Zeb told him a hilarious tale that involved betting on Chopper and winding up saddled with a smooth-talking smuggler and his meddlesome puffer pig.

"If I know Kanan, he's got bigger things on his mind. I'll bet he's already forgotten about it all," Zeb assured Hogarth. He regretted the 'spanking' he had given Thrush in front of the Jedi and now had finally let down his guard long enough to confess what had been bothering him lately.

"It's because he's a Jedi, so you know..." Hogarth didn't have to say anything else to get his message across.

"Right, you don't wanna mess up in front of him. I get it," Zeb sympathized. "But Kanan's the last sort to put on 'airs', 'specially in the middle of a mission. You and Ezra got those plates out and that's what counts."

"Zeb's right," agreed Rex. He shuffled two cards into the rest in his hand. "Besides, it sounds me like that Imp kid was overdue his daily kick in this pants." The clone shook his head. "Crying over a bunch of crabs while everything's going up in smoke around him. No wonder the Empire's in the shape that it's in."

Hogarth never dreamed he'd be sitting across the tiny table enjoying a card game with a clone but here he was, not only participating but enjoying it. Rex had a frank open attitude that put Hogarth at ease and he was quick to realize that he needn't feel insecure in the presence of the veteran, especially one with a good sense of humor.

"So there's Kanan and I, all decked out like bucketheads, and we 'round the corner thinking Ezra's trapped in a cell," Rex explained. "Next thing I know, I'm hit with a thousand blaster shocks and flat on my back. I wake up to see Ezra's shaking and slapping us and sayin' there was a fire fight..."

"Oh no," Hogarth grinned. "I can guess where this is going."

"Oh yes," Rex agreed. "Trigger-happy Bridger zapped us both right in the chest."

"What happened next?"

Rex rubbed a hand over his white beard. "Next? I told the kid he should've turned it from 'stun' to 'kill'!"

Zeb snickered and placed his cards on the table. "Never a dull moment with this geezer around," he told Hogarth.

Rex shrugged. "Even clones screw up from time to time."

Seeing Hogarth's surprised expression, he nodded. "Oh sure, you can program a soldier from birth to do everything right and ninety nine percent of the time he'll be on the mark. But there's always that little bit of something special that makes him tick, makes him a person with his own attitude and thinking patterns. It's that one percent that makes him more than just a carbon-copy of his brother."

"A lot of good brothers, huh?" Hogarth dared to ask.

"The best of the lot," Rex confirmed in a quiet tone. Then resuming his cheerfulness he added, "Families change over time and I couldn't be more proud of this one than I've ever been in my life."

Hogarth looked once to the door, thinking about the woman and the two girls who had become his friends and family over the years. Those Twi'leks had enough charm and talent between them to spellbind a crowd. Tamar could have wrapped Hogarth around her finger the minute she saw him but never once had it even occurred to her because she just wasn't that sort of woman. She had always treated Hogarth with far more respect than he expected of himself and for that he was eternally grateful.

When Poppy wheeled in with a plate of triple-decker sandwiches and several bottles of Hogarth's ice-cold beer, he couldn't ask for anything more. The trio thanked her profusely and the droid wheeled out quite proud of herself. Zeb popped open one bottle took a long hearty gulp.

"Ah, that's the ticket!" he declared with satisfaction.

Rex raised his own bottle in the air. "Gentlemen, I propose a toast," he announced. "To the lady of the house."

"To Tamar," Hogarth agreed. They raised their bottles over the desk and clinked them heartily against each other.

Food on his plate, a roof over his head, and friends around the table.

Hogarth Lang was indeed a lucky man.

A-A-A

Author's notes:

Hogarth's character was loosely inspired by the film "Rocky". He's the every-man who thinks he'll never get a break but standing up and working hard proves he's got more brains and heart than he gives himself credit for. Ezra's technique for hiding the plates was inspired by a strategy in the highly-entertaining Ian Fleming novel "Live And Let Die". Food is a center part of this chapter and it ranges from life sustenance to an expression of gratitude and love, much inspired by family stories about relatives who survived wars and lived to see their homes and tables full again in a new country.

Say "no" to greknos and "yes" to cream rolls.


	4. Sunflower

The sunflower's name is rooted in two Greek words: "helios" meaning sun and "anthos" meaning flower. _-FTD website_

The sunflower is not the rarest flower, but it's still a beautiful symbol of power for many people. Some common meanings include nourishing yourself and others, since the sunflower produces an abundance of edible seeds, and feelings of adoration, admiration, and platonic love towards a person, such as a family member or friend. - _Flowermeaning website_

"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows. It's what the sunflowers do." - _Helen Keller_

A-A-A

Nava loved Empire Day.

The excitement, the insanely loud music, the gleaming banners that flapped in the wind, discount food from the vendors; everything made her hop up and down on her toes with glee. Zora the Hutt had overcome his latest round of paranoia and had assembled his own delegation complete with four bodyguards and six of his finest dancers, including Nava.

"Forward, my comrades!" he declared with a hearty bellow. The hoverboard beneath his massive body glided forward, allowing the Hutt to join the parade along with other honored guests at the Iolanthe celebration.

The larger sun was out while its smaller sister, no more than a watery-looking star, hovered in the sky. It was bright outside but unexpectedly cold with gusts of wind constantly blasting around their legs. Nava shivered in her skimpy dancing costume and started hoping from one foot to another to keep warm.

"Don't burn yourself out honey," the other dancer warned her.

"I've got three cups of kaff in my body," Nava insisted. She had chugged it all down since the crack of dawn and could now feel the adrenaline whizzing through her body at lightspeed.

The hoverboard swept down the street and crowds clapped and cheered, admiring the handsome bodyguards and beautiful dancers that flanked Zora. Polite applause turned to sharp whistles and brazen calls when the dancers took their places around the moving stage and began their formations.

Nava had grown accustomed to these crude marks and knew to brush them off. Zora said she was a valuable asset and true to his word, no drooling audience member would get within ten feet of her without his permission. The bodyguards would make sure of that.

On cue, two hysterical teenage boys ran into the parade and tried climbing onto the hoverboard. One of them reached out to Nava's ankle but she shook a finger at him in playful disapproval. A bodyguard drove the butt of his rifle into the teen's head and sent him sprawling back onto the street.

"No harassing the dancers!" Zora snapped. "You're ruining our publicity!" He went back to waving his meaty arms at the crowd.

Nearly four hours later, the parade was over and Nava could feel the effects of the kaff winding down. Her feet ached from the dancing but she knew to save her strength and be ready for their next number at the evening performance.

For the time being, she shrugged a cloak over her shoulders and told the other dancer that she'd go looking for something good to eat in the market. "Better take a bodyguard with you before Zora worries," the girl warned Nava.

"Relax! I'll be back quickly," Nava insisted. Several pedestrians had thrown credits at them during the dance and Zora had been generous enough to let Nava collect a handful of them. Surely she could get something sweet and tasty to ease her stomach for the rest of the afternoon.

Nava skipped off, humming to herself as she examined the vendors. She finally settled on a piece of fried bread stuffed with dried fruit and sprinkled with powdered sugar, confident that it would give her badly-needed energy. Nava strolled along and slowly munched her bread to make it last. She was still hungry afterwards but had no more money. Nava eagerly licked her fingers clean and prepared to head back to the rest of Zora's party.

"Excuse me," said a feminine voice. Nava felt a finger tap her on the arm and turned around to see a blue-skinned Twi'lek starring her in the face. Nava was instantly delighted to with her presence. Except for a few other dancers who had come and gone from Zora's employment, Nava hadn't seen too many other lekku other than her own in her lifetime.

She was enraptured with the elegance of the woman before her. The Twi'lek wore a dark purple suit trimmed with gold buttons. Her boots and headscarf were made of matching brown hues and she carried a pocketbook tucked under one elbow. Even her makeup was minimal but tastefully done; a light brush of kohl around her eyes and a hint of gloss on her lips.

Nava thought she was the loveliest person she had ever seen.

The woman gave her a friendly smile. "Hello, my name is Tamar Il'yan. What's yours?"

Nava beamed back with delight. How lucky of her to have the chance to speak with this woman! "I'm Nava Oren," she answered proudly.

"Nava," Tamar repeated. "I saw you dancing during the parade. You're quite good at it."

A compliment! As if the day could get no better. "I hope you enjoyed it," Nava gushed. "You look amazing, Tamar. Your clothes are beautiful."

"Why, thank you Nava. I'm glad you like them."

"Did your master buy them for you?"

Tamar's smile froze on her face. "Actually, I bought them myself."

"Oh! Then he's very generous to let you do your own shopping."

The smile grew taut in the corners. Oh no, had Nava said something wrong? She wouldn't want this charming Twi'lek to be offended. Perhaps she didn't want other Twi'leks flocking to her master. But he must be rich indeed to dress Tamar like that.

"What I mean to say is that I earned the money to buy them myself," Tamar explained. "I don't have a master."

"No?" That was surprising news to Nava's ears. "Then how do you earn the money?"

"I have a club," answered Tamar. She seemed to want to say something else but pressed on the conversation. "How would you like to see it for yourself?"

"Would I ever!" Nava said. "But it's getting late and I have to get back to Zora. He's a stickler for time."

"It won't take more than half an hour," Tamar insisted.

Nava looked at her wistfully. "I wish I could but I can't. I'm sorry, Tamar. But it was nice to meet you. I hope I get to wear such pretty clothes someday."

She spun around but Tamar quickly clamped a hand on Nava's shoulder.

"Just one more question. How old are you?" she asked.

"Twenty two!" Nava exclaimed a little too quickly.

Tamar's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Really? Judging by the length of your lekku, I'm guessing you're no older than fourteen."

The smaller Twi'lek withered under Tamar's sharp gaze and looked away. "Now tell me the truth," Tamar insisted in a firm tone. "What's your birthday?"

"I….I don't know when I was born," she admitted bashfully.

"Do you know how long you've been working for Zora?"

"About eight years, I think. Before that I worked in Senator Ming's kitchen."

"And before that?"

Tamar was answered with a blank stare from the young green Twi'lek. A greater concern had popped up in her mind.

"Nava, I know this is a personal question but I must know the truth. What does your family's kalikori look like?"

Nava blinked large golden eyes at Tamar in silence. The older Twi'lek shook her head in disbelief. "You don't know anything about a kalikori is, do you?"

"Or my family," she confessed.

A-A-A

_Two hours later, the Jewel Garden entertainment club_

It hadn't taken long for Tamar to assess Nava and act quickly. She bought Nava a packet of fried tubers and after watching how quickly the teen chomped them down, confirmed she wasn't getting enough to eat. The stage makeup couldn't hide the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep nor could Nava stop rubbing her eyes from time to time. The flimsy costume beneath her cloak was the final verdict for Tamar.

No sister of Ryloth should be subjugated to such humiliation any longer. Once they arrived at the club Tamar immediately contacted Zora over the holonet. Two thousands credits was going to put a noticeable dent in Tamar's account but it was a small price to pay for someone's freedom. The Hutt was reluctant at first but Tamar worked her charms as well as she could until he finally relented to let Nava go, though not without an added bonus on the side. For once in her life Tamar did not haggle over the price but relented to Zora's requests.

When the sale was concluded Tamar brought Nava some soup and bread and ordered her take nap.

Nava was fretful until Tamar managed to convince her that, as Nava's current employer, she would feed her and take care of her.

"I'm glad," Nava added, having assumed her usual cheeriness when Tamar told her the news. Then she picked up her bowl and gulped down the soup. "I was worried that I wouldn't be working for anyone and then I wouldn't have anything to eat. Zora always said if I danced, I ate. But lately I still feel hungry all the time."

"It's your growth spurt," Tamar assured her. "Your body requires more food as your bones get stronger and you grow taller. But you need healthier food than fried vendor meals. Hogarth puts plenty of vegetables and meat in his soup so finish it all." Nava had no problem with that order and swallowed her soup down to the last drop.

Nava was then shooed upstairs to where several mattresses had been spread out in the rooms. Soon there would be proper beds and furniture but for now, Tamar was making sure to have the necessities covered downstairs before putting together an effective budget upstairs. Nava placed her head upon one of the feather-bog comforters and was asleep in minutes.

A-A-A

"You found another Twi'lek?" Hogarth asked when he came back from his errands.

Empire Day wasn't going to stop him or Tamar from a good bargain and he had been nearly halfway across the planet running errands while everyone else was still at the festivities. Tamar helped Hogarth by taking some of the packages out of his hands and placing them on the table. She filled in her day's adventures quickly while examining his purchases.

"She's been raised in captivity," Tamar said. "I can imagine once the Empire took hold of Ryloth they separated newborns from their families and raised them off-world to be servants and slaves. It would make things easier if they had no clue where they came from."

"Poor kid," Hogarth muttered. "Think we can find her parents?"

"Without identification cards or even a detailed memory from her, I think our odds are very slim." Tamar sighed as she unfolded several yards of fabric. The rich red velvet should have thrilled her but now it could not diminish the weight of unhappiness within Tamar. She knew that most Twi'leks were faring far worse than herself; now Nava's presence was a direct accusation to one of the many neglected deeds of the Empire.

Nava didn't seem to be aware of the danger around her which concerned Tamar even more. Refreshed from her nap and full of good food, Nava bounced downstairs in two hours with usual lightheartedness and smiled at Tamar.

"Good afternoon, Master Ily'an!" she smiled. Suddenly noticing Hogarth's intimidating presence, Nava jumped back with a shriek.

"Who is that? He's hideous!" she cried out.

Tamar cringed from Nava's words. She was about to let Nava know that Hogarth was a co-worker and she shouldn't always speak her but Hogarth beat her to the punch.

"At least she's honest!" he chortled.

"You shouldn't say such rude things to strangers." Tamar chided Nava.

Nava didn't seem to notice and was still starring at Hogarth with a mixture of fear and now fascination. "Do the scars hurt?"

"Only when I pick at 'em." Seeing Tamar's horrified face, he waved a hand in the air. "Relax, boss. I'm used to it. Just tell the kid that I don't bite."

"Why would you?" Nava inquired curiously. Hogarth decided to let the question pass and permit Tamar to take control of the situation.

"Now that you've met Hogarth I'm going to let you know how our arrangement will work out," she told Nava. "Instead of being your master, I will be your employer."

"Employer?"

"Yes," Tamar insisted. "You work for me and I pay you. I'll start you off with forty a week and you can sleep in one of the rooms upstairs."

"Um, master? I mean, Miss Ily'an?"

"Yes?"

Nava paused and reflected upon this alternative way of addressing her new guardian. "What sort of work would you like me to do?"

Tamar drew out several data disks and placed them on the table. "I'd like you to study these dance holo-vids and see if you can perform the moves."

Nava picked one up and studied it. "What type of dance music is this?"

"Core ballet," Tamar explained.

"What's wrong with my dancing now?" Nava asked with complete innocence.

"Our clients are different from Zora's clients," Tamar explained quickly. "We require alternative types of entertainment."

"You entertain a lot of men too, right? Zora told me that all men want the same thing," Nava admitted. "Do I need to go into rooms with them or lie down on their beds afterwards?"

"No!" Tamar blurted out, looking more uncomfortable than Hogarth had ever seen her before. "No," she added more calmly. "Of course I won't force you to do something that terrible."

The younger Twi'lek starred at her with curious golden eyes. "What makes it so terrible? Some of the girls said it wasn't so bad, that it can actually be nice being with a man. Well, it depends on the man, I think. Some of them said it hurt afterwards, but some of the men make them feel very good."

Tamar couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was a miracle that this girl had gotten halfway through puberty without harassed stranger but even more bewildering that she couldn't understand how to stand up to oncoming advances and threats.

Tamar suddenly found a new intense hatred of Zora the Hutt.

She sat Nava down and asked Hogarth to brew some herbal tea for all of them. After being told that too much kaff wasn't good for a growing girl (and that the tea would brighten her eyes and clear her skin) Nava sipped her drink eagerly and listened to Tamar.

She was carefully walked through the several biological stages of Twi'lek life, the delicate dance between the mating of men and women, and the consequences if Nava wasn't careful. Then she had to be lectured firmly that it was morally wrong for a man to take advantage of a girl, especially one who had no family or connections to protect her from relentless pursuers. It was equally immoral for a girl to behave "loosely" by making herself easily available.

"Is it really that bad if I do something like that?" Nava asked at last. "Not that I want to do it right now but if I meet a nice handsome man who makes me feel—"

"You shouldn't be doing 'it' right now in your life anyhow," Tamar interrupted her. "Not until you're older and ready to handle the consequences."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Tamar fumbled for an answer. For stars sake, how did you raise teenagers?

"Because you could catch a disease, get pregnant, or die," Hogarth concluded.

"Or all three," his employer concluded firmly.

As far-fetched as his threat was, Hogarth's words had the ideal effect on Nava, who finally seemed to be grasping the depth of the situation. Her eyes turned frantic with worry and then she crossed her legs and whimpered uneasily.

"I'm not trying to scare you," Tamar reminded her. "But it's a dangerous galaxy and you have to be careful or else someone could hurt you. So if a customer even tries to touch you or says something that makes you uncomfortable then I want you to tell Hogarth or myself straight away," Tamar concluded sternly.

"Even if they are an Imperial officer?" Nava asked. Tamar nodded firmly. "But won't that get you or your club into trouble?"

"Let me handle that," Tamar assured her. "You just work on your new dance moves. I'll see if we can get you a costume that's less exposed and more formal."

"Thank you, boss!" Nava exclaimed. She snatched the tapes and nearly bounced out of the room.

Tamar fell back in her chair and pressed a hand to her forehead. She glanced at Hogarth who said, "Don't look at me, boss. I'm not the one who found her."

"I know. And I'm relieved that I found Nava but stars, I just hope I can keep her safe for now." Tamar sighed and swirled the dregs of her tea around in her cup.

"Kids these days," Hogarth muttered. "That's what's wrong with the universe. When I was growing up there was none of this 'frisking' around. A boy minded his manners and always asked permission from a father before courting a girl."

It was one of the longest speeches Tamar had heard him say and she was intrigued. "Courting?"

"Uh, wooing, boss."

She swirled the dregs of her tea around in her cup. "Back on Ryloth we used to make a big joke about these things as kids. ' _Well dear, when a mommy Wookie and a daddy Wookie love each other very much…."_

Hogarth snorted his tea through his nose.

A-A-A

_Five weeks later:_

Nava adored her new beautiful blue dancing costume, even if had a high neckline and came well down far past her knees. She practiced long and hard as Tamar permitted her for several weeks until the evening came for Nava Oren to make her grand introduction to the guests of the Jewl Garden.

They were definitely different from Zora's lot; maybe they did make too many rules and arrest people on the street but at least in the club they were polite to Nava and treated her like a little doll as she danced the Core ballet, making sure to keep her movements modest and tasteful as she twirled across the stage.

"What a charming little girl," cooed one lady. Nava made sure to curtsy deeply to her and say she was honored to perform for such a dignified guest. She was certainly having a good time working for Tamar. Her new employer insisted that Nava get an extra hour or two of sleep so Nava woke up feeling refreshed in the morning. She cut back on her kaff and made sure to drink a cup of tea instead. Hogarth let her cut up vegetables for their midday meals and served her such a big plate at lunchtime that she didn't have to ask for second helpings.

Nava's biggest concern was the future of the club. She felt bad that her employer had spent so much money to buy her freedom from Zora. And while the club was still open every night, Tamar admitted that they'd have to find new suitable entertainment or else their recent guests would get bored quickly.

While Tamar was busy holding auditions in the daytime and Hogarth made gradual repairs and updates to the club, Nava helped out by running errands in the local district. She always followed Tamar's directions which main streets she should take to stay safe and never talked back to anyone who tried to be too friendly to her.

One afternoon Tamar said to her, "There's a discount glass-maker in the 19th district off the quartermaster bridge. I need you to—"

"I can't go!" Nava shrieked. "It's haunted!"

Tamar looked up from her datapad. "Haunted?" she repeated.

Nava nodded fearfully. "The bridge is where all the commuters travel through to get home. There's a ghost who lives near the bridge and plays a song every time you walk over it."

"Don't be silly. There's no such thing as ghosts," insisted Tamar.

"But it's true! I've heard it before!" Nava declared. "Please don't make me go, boss."

Tamar looked at her other companion. "Hogarth?"

"I can mend the counters or go to the district. I can't do both," he said irritably. Hogarth was pressured to get the circuitry re-wired after unexpected gales had swept over Iolanthe for three days.

Tamar shook her head. "Nava, the bridge is perfectly safe. Just take the comm-link and call me if you are in any _real_ danger."

Nava wanted to protest further but Tamar gave her a cool calm look that confirmed she would not relent.

"All right," she conceded meekly. Nava placed the comm-link into her pocket and picked up her cloak.

A-A-A

Near one fifth of Iolanthe's population passed though the 19th district for their daily commute. Hover-buses, underground trains, and solar sidewalks helped speed the process but nevertheless one could easily get swept up in the bustle of bodies moving along one of several wide bridges that connected working centers together.

Nava made sure her purse was clutched tightly in her hand and that the cloak covered most of her features. A stray lustful hand could easily try pawing at her in the crowd. Fortunately, most commuters were too tired and eager to get home than stray off to flirt with a Twi'lek.

She hastily completed her order with the glassmaker and then went back onto the main bridge. It was crowded with vendors selling anything possible in the galaxy for commuters who needed last-minute purchases before going home. A bouquet of flowers for the lovely wife? Some tasty take-out for the exhausted worker? Perhaps a new set of gambling dice for the weekly sabaac game!

Nava moved as far away from the crowd and up against two vendors to avoid getting crushed. The earthenware bowls did not catch her attention but she did linger long enough to admire some pretty beaded necklaces.

"See anything you like?" asked the vendor.

Before she could open her mouth, Nava heard the melancholy rousing sound. Even amidst the noise of traffic and sounds of the street, there was the distinct melody of strings being pulled and notes being carried on the wind. She found herself standing perfectly still, ears pricking attentively to the music.

"It'll be the rag-girl," said the vendor. "Sits on the corner over there in our busiest hours and runs off before the stormtroopers can arrest her." He glanced towards to a figure slumped on the sidewalk. "She doesn't make trouble but she'd better pack up for good before trouble finds her."

Nava walked away from the vendor and drew closer to the figure sitting on the ground. It did look like a rag-girl or at least a bundle of mismatched clothing piled on top of a living creature including a red faded hood, patchwork scarf, and water-stained coat. Nava braced herself for the offensive odor of an unwashed body but the being didn't smell as bad as she thought it would.

The hands holding a small harp were blue-gray with short but surprisingly clean fingernails. The fingers were tapering and delicate: the fingers of an artist. As the rag-girl's fingers flew over the harp strings, a few passerbys dropped credits into the tin can at her feet.

Nava listened to the music in fascination. The rag-girl seemed to be coaxing her music out of the harp and permitting it to animate freely in the air.

The little Twi'lek closed her eyes and imagined this elegant sound drifting through their club. Surely their guests would like it. " _And wouldn't Tamar love it?"_ she thought to herself. _"Much better than anyone else who's been auditioning."_

The Twi'lek rushed to another vendor and bought a hot bun wrapped in paper and disposable cup of kaff. Then she returned to the rag-girl with her purchases in hand. "Excuse me?" she said.

The rag-girl lifted her hooded head up to Nava revealing two large pale eyes in a blue-gray face. Nava nearly dropped the kaff in shock when she recognized twin lekku tucked behind the ears. She had dozens of questions for her fellow Twi'lek but recalled Tamar's brief lectures about focusing on the current matter.

"Will you take this for your services?" Nava extended the cup and the bun to the Twi'lek. Tamar had warned Nava about moochers and fakers who feigned asking for charity and drained it all through alcohol and spice. Nava hoped the Twi'lek wasn't one of them.

The rag-girl just starred at Nava and blinked her haunting eyes. She looked at the food in Nava's hands and then back at her face. A worried look came over her. Then she slowly shook her head.

"Look, it's not poisoned. See?" Nava took a nibble of bun and a sip of kaff. "I just bought it myself over there."

The rag-girl set down the harp in her lap and reached out with both hands to take the food from Nava. She nearly snatched the bun away and tore half of it off with her teeth. Then she took a large gulp of kaff and then crammed the rest of the bun in her mouth. She had ravenously polished both off in less than half a minute.

"Thank you," she said at last. Her words came out in a low rasp.

Nava knelt down to look her in the eye. "My name is Nava Oren. What's yours?" she asked with a smile.

The rag-girl hesitated before speaking again. "Miri," she answered faintly.

"Miri what?"

"Just Miri. Why do you want to know?" Fear rippled through her voice.

"I work for a club in the other district," Nava said proudly.

"The Jewel Garden?"

"Yes! Do you know it?"

"I saw it once while going by on the train," admitted Miri. "The outside looks nice."

"The inside is nicer," added Nava. "Would you like to come see it?"

The frenzied look of fear was back on Miri's face. She shook her head frantically at Nava. The smaller Twi'lek was perplexed. What had happened to Miri to make her this terrified?

"It's a lovey place. My boss is a Twi'lek herself," Nava explained. "She's very nice. She helped me sew this cloak together. Isn't it pretty? And it's so warm and soft inside."

"Why do you want me to come?" Miri asked. Nava quickly explained about Tamar's auditions and their need to find new music. "I, I don't know," Miri responded feebly.

Nava removed a holo-disk from her pocket and offered it to Miri. "Here's our address. We're not busy in the afternoons so you can come by and show Tamar your music."

Miri studied the card curiously but didn't take it.

"Please?" Nava begged, nearly bouncing in place with restlessness. "Please say you'll come by for just a few minutes. I promise I won't bother you anymore today."

After Nava's hand began to get numb, Miri finally extended a long slim arm and took the card from her.

Nava's heart glowed with relief and hope. "Great! I'll see you soon."

She waved a hand and skipped away. Miri's voice rose up loud enough to shout something before being swallowed up by the traffic.

"Thank you for the food!"

A-A-A

_Two days later:_

"Welcome! Please come in!" Nava's cheery voice piped up. Hope flickered within Tamar's chest when she saw Miri meekly follow Nava into the club. Her hood was pulled back and she carried the harp clutched tightly to her chest.

"I told Tamar all about you. It's so exciting to meet another Twi'lek," Nava gushed on. "And I'm glad that you're not a ghost either."

A faint smile crossed Miri's face. "Me too."

Tamar walked towards Miri and offered a hand. "I'm Tamar Ily'an, the owner of the club. Thank you for coming by."

"You're welcome," said Miri. She lifted her head up long enough to gaze around the room. "This is the most beautiful place I've seen in years. It feels peaceful and charming."

"Just wait until the Imperials arrive," Tamar warned her. "I run a tight ship to keep them happy and keeps us all on our toes."

"Then why do you do it?"

"It puts food on our table and keeps us off the Empire's lists," Tamar answered honestly.

She clasped her hand together. "I'm delighted to see that you brought your harp. We just installed new pipes in our refresher system so why don't you test it out with a shower before we get started? And it's close to lunch so we're ordering takeout."

Miri appeared overwhelmed with the offers. "I, I wouldn't want to intrude," she stammered.

"Not at all," Tamar insisted. "We've got hours until the club opens. Nava will show you upstairs."

Nava nearly yanked on Miri's arm and was dancing up the steps with happiness as she showed her where the refresher was.

Along with Hogarth, Tamar's face grew dark with unspoken words. He watched the lines in her face harden and a sharp clear light grew in her eyes.

"That girl," she said at last. "Looks like she had her soul ripped out of her body and stuffed back in."

A-A-A

Twenty minutes later, Miri descended from the staircase and made all of their heads turn.

Refreshed from hot water and scented with soap, she was dressed in one of Tamar's green shirts and a pair of black trousers. The pants were a bit too short for Miri's legs but had accented her tall slender body well. Under the club lights her skin revealed a smooth pale blue skin without a hint of gray. Her complexion was clear as porcelain and her face modeled sharp but delicate features.

"Oh my," Nava whispered.

Miri stopped in her tracks. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong! You look wonderful!" Nava insisted.

Tamar watched the Twil'ek examine herself in one of the mirrors. She didn't seem pleased by her reflection and just shrugged her shoulders.

Hogarth had spread out several containers of takeout food but Miri insisted she'd feel better eating after performing for Tamar. She took her harp in her lap and sat down on the stage. "What should I play?"

 _"_ The Ballad of Alderaan is a classic," suggested Tamar. Miri nodded and leaned back in her chair, then arranged the harp on her lap.

Nava thought the audition was better than a concert. She stuffed her face with dumplings while the sound of Miri's harp strings washed over her. After Miri had completed the ballad, Tamar produced a data-chip and asked Miri to mimic the melody. Miri dutifully played through two more sets of music before Tamar had her verdict. Instead of telling her directly, she sent Miri out on a favor for half an hour until she could break the news in person to her.

Nava watched Miri leave the club with fascination. "Isn't she beautiful?" she asked Tamar. The older Twi'lek nodded in silent agreement. While most female of their race possessed various forms of beauty, Miri Matoka's tall features and silent air would be considered ideal to nearly anyone in the universe. If not for the ghostly look in her eyes…

"Miri Matoka," Nava said aloud. "What a remarkable name. And she walks so elegantly, as if she was floating like a cloud." The little Twi'lek sighed with envy. "My dancing would be even better if I had some of her gracefulness."

"Perhaps she will teach you how to walk and hold yourself," suggested Tamar. "You'll have lots of time together since you'll be sharing rooms."

This was the best news Nava had heard all week. Another Twi'lek found _and_ a new roommate! She would have blurted it all out to Miri had Tamar not told their new musician as soon as she returned.

"You're hired," she announced. "You can start as soon as you want to move in."

Miri looked ready to faint on the spot. "Are you certain? I need to practice those last two sets to synchronize the melodies."

"Then you'll have morning hours to practice in the club," Tamar announced. "And when you're not working on your music, I hope you'll help us with the daily preparations and cleaning duties. There's only so much our current droid can handle."

Miri gave Tamar a respectful bow. "Thank you for your kindness," she said. "I'll do anything you ask of me."

A shiver unexpectedly ran through Tamar from Miri's last words. Fortunately, Nava came over and wrapped her hands around Miri's wrists.

"Come with me, I'll show you to our room." She bounded up the stairs with Miri at her heels.

"Isn't Tamar wonderful?" Nava babbled on. "She has the best taste in clothes and lets us get up dressed up every evening. See the floral paintings on the walls? And the glass windows? I'm so glad she likes pretty things. Plain things bore me more than ugly ones. Zora the Hutt never put flowers out…"

Miri walked behind her silently with eyes averted down. Nava stopped. "I'm sorry, did I do it again? I know I talk a lot. Tamar says I have to learn not to speak so much but I can't talk and dance at the same time."

"It's all right," Miri said at last. She gave Nava a shy but sincere smile. "You say interesting things. I like listening to you speak."

"You do? Good! Then I can get all the talking out of the way so there's more time to dance." She went back to racing up the steps but this time, she could sense a spring in Miri's steps just behind her.

A-A-A

_My big sister moved away but soon I got a little sister._

_I still talk more than her but she's good a listening and just as observant as Miri. She says that she used to work for a rich powerful man who treated her well but he made her do a lot of bad things. Io said sometimes she did bad things on her own and she feels sad remembering it. She used to be scared of Tamar but now Io looks like she wants to please her.  
_

_We lost the club and built a kaff shop instead._

_The people who come in aren't rich or popular but Tamar says every customer is important. Of course, she also says 'every credit is important' so it makes sense to me that she'll welcome in anyone as long as they don't bring their spice or sabaac cards with them. Hogarth also said that freight people spend long lonely hours in space so a break with some good kaff and friendly faces means a lot to them._

_We lost a wonderful busboy but gained a Jedi friend._

_I've never heard of Jedi before until Tamar told me special stories about them, magical people who guarded peace and justice in the galaxy. I don't know what sort of "magic tricks" Ezra can do but I remember when Miri accidentally broke a glass in the club and Ezra insisted on cleaning it up for her. He said because she was a good musician it was important that she didn't cut her fingers._

_Tamar told me that Ezra shouldn't use his powers on Kaller because it's too dangerous. But I don't think Ezra needs powers to make himself special. He has a way of doing and saying things that makes all of us feel better, except for Io. As soon as he leaves she starts sighing and moping about._

-Recordings from the holo-diary of Nava Oren, resident of Central Boulevard on Kaller

A-A-A

Months before Phoenix Squadron had established themselves on Atallon, Hera would never forget the sight of the ugly Fire-class cruise carrier over Ryloth. It had been the catalyst of a painful reunion with her father after years of silent bitterness. She had wanted to capture and salvage the military station for the Rebellion while he wanted it to go down in flames over their home world.

There were sharp words, stun blasts, and explosions that followed. Hera was grateful that her Ghost crew had been there to support her before Hera had done something rash that could have torn her even further apart from her father. In the end, they were able to set aside their personal differences and accept that they were stronger when fighting together.

Now, as Hera and Chopper sat silently in the background, the Ghost's captain was deliberating what to say that wouldn't make things blow up figuratively in their faces. Cham Syndulla had heard about Bina Ily'an's niece who had catered to the whims of Imperials and worse, recruited fellow Twi'leks to perform as entertainment in a fancy club!

"You have no authority to raise those two girls as your own," Cham spoke sharply to Tamar. "They would be better off with other Twi'lek families."

"I see no one else who has the authority to say I can't," she responded in a frosty tone.

The general remained relentless. Pouring kaff and playing music was a waste of time and with two healthy strong Twi'lek girls on Kaller, he insisted that they be transferred to "suitable and steady" people that could instruct Io and Nava on their proud heritage. Hera was worried that someone might force weapons into Io and Nava's hands and mold them to fight as well as Gobi and Numa. She was a proud captain and willing to make necessary sacrifices but Hera didn't want to see Tamar's girls forced unwillingly into duties that they wouldn't be any good at. Hera was more than fine with watching the girls work in a kaff shop.

 _"I know my father is stubborn but why does he insist on interfering with Tamar's life?"_ she thought unhappily. _"Why can't he let this matter go?_ "

Hera knew that a wrong word from herself could wound her father or her friend further. So she spoke up as calmly as possible. "Father, I can support Tamar's position. She took good care of Ezra on Iolanthe and assisted the Rebellion on several occasions."

"Where is the young Jedi now?" Cham demanded.

"He's in the cafe," Tamar told him. "Keeping an eye out while Hogarth and Poppy renew our lease."

Cham frowned. "Alone? All three young people together?"

He spoke in such a sharp tone that Hera almost had to resist smiling. "I'm sure Ezra and the girls are behaving themselves."

"Nevertheless, I must see them for myself," he insisted.

Tamar shrugged her shoulders and gestured for him to follow her.

A-A-A

Unfortunately, they picked the wrong time to enter the cafe.

Ezra was sitting across the table from Io and Nava with several cups of kaff placed between them. The Jedi apprentice had a strip of white cloth wrapped around his head and covering his eyes. The sight of a young man blindfolded in the presence of two pretty Twi'leks was enough to mislead a passerby into thinking something inappropriate was occurring. The fact that it was this late at night was a further excuse for misinterpretation.

Ezra had just picked up a cup and taken a careful sip. "Honey," he concluded. "With extra bantha cream."

Nava clapped her hands. "You got that one right!"

"Now try this one," Io urged him. She pushed a second cup in his hands. Ezra tasted it and then his lower face scrunched up.

"This tastes like Zeb smells," he said.

She smirked. "It was roasted twice for customers who want the most intense flavor."

"Ahem!" Tamar coughed loudly in the doorway to get their attention. Ezra's head turned to the direction of her voice and he quickly took off the blindfold to see Hera stand with Tamar and the grim-faced Cham Syndulla.

"Oh, hi everyone!" Ezra had the decency to look sheepish and then gestured to the table. "I was just taste testing some new drinks for the cafe," he explained.

Tamar bite the inside of her cheeks to suppress a laugh but Cham Syndulla descended the steps with a steady air of disapproval. He folded his arms across his chest and scrutinized the cafe around him before finding settling his gaze on Tamar.

"Is this how you and these girls waste your time?" he demanded harshly. "Playing silly games while the Empire's arm grows stronger every day?"

His insult cut Nava to the core and her lower lip trembled. Io's eyes narrowed defensively at the general. But Tamar did not rise to the barb.

"I believe a bit of harmless recreation now and then is helpful in the long run," she said slowly.

Cham merely pointed a finger at Nava. "So this is the one you rescued from the Hutts. Does she have the birthmarks of the Taa household?" he demanded.

Nava starred in confusion at Cham. "My father believes that you are related to the late senator of Ryloth, Orn Free Taa," Hera explained gently. "Do you have the filigree patterns on your skin?"

"Oh yes, right here!" Nava said. She proceeded to reach for the hem of her shirt and lift it up barely an inch.

"Wait! Wait!" Tamar nearly shouted. It was Hera's turn to restrain herself when she caught of glimpse of Ezra jerking his head away and blushing. Hera and Tamar encircled Nava while she tugged the shirt up just enough for them to see the faint but noticeable swirls of light gray marking that spread across the skin of her lower back. Tamar sighed in relief.

"Yes, she has the marking," Hera concluded. "Does that satisfy you father?"

"She must be Taa's niece, the one on the Kal province side," Cham concluded. "Senator Taa and I may have had our differences..."

 _"That's putting it lightly,"_ thought Hera.

"But as his former political rival, I consider it my obligation to make sure that she is provided for by placing her in a more suitable environment."

Tamar had been patient long enough and now her temper was treading close to a space mine. She wanted to open her mouth and tell Cham that her cafe was a perfectly "suitable" place when Io spoke up.

"Her name is Nava," the purple Twi'lek insisted. "Why don't you ask Nava herself what she wants to do?"

Cham turned his frown on her. "You are very bold, little one. Were you not taught to respect your elders?"

"I am catching up," was Io's cool reply. Having been under the thumb of an aristocrat most of her life, she was not as intimidated by Cham's remarks as her friend.

The general touched his chin in thought. "Well, little one. Which family did you come from?"

"I don't know," Io said honestly. "I am Io, that is all."

Cham appeared outraged. "That is all? Surely you must know your surname!"

"It's Palpatine."

This time Ezra chocked on his current cup of kaff and began coughing so hard that Hera had to slap him on the back several times. Nava started to giggle but a sharp glare from Tamar cut her short.

"Nava and Io, go upstairs right now," she said in a monotone voice.

Io's face fell. "Tamar, I did not mean to-"

" _Now_ ," Tamar repeated firmly. The girls meekly shuffled out of the room and everyone waited for them to be out of earshot to continue the debate.

Cham shook a finger in Tamar's face. "They are too assimilated, those girls. You are becoming a negative influence on them. If your aunt were alive do you think she would be pleased with you?"

"If you mean keeping the girls under my productive and away from the slavers, I think Aunt Bina would be more than satisfied," Tamar nearly snapped back. "I'm not yet ready to let them run into battlefields for the sake of others."

Before Cham and Tamar could continue quarreling, Ezra intervened. "You both have Nava and Io's best interest in mind," he spoke up. "And it sounds like a good thing to me. They're lucky to have other people concerned for their future. There must be a way to handle this without fighting or hurting anyone further."

"I thank you for your input, Ezra Bridger. But this is an affair strictly between Twi'leks," Cham said.

"Actually Father, as I recall the Jedi were renounced for their ability to solve conflicts," Hera pointed out. She gave Ezra a silent look of gratitude.

"I agree," said Tamar. In a more polite tone she asked Cham, "What do you propose?"

"I propose that we bring this affair before the Ryloth High Council," he answered.

Ezra was curious "What's the Ryloth High Council?"

"It's a group of three esteemed Twi'leks who act as a court on our people's laws and rules," Hera explained. "People present their cases to the council and after listening to the witnesses, they decide on a verdict. The vote must be unanimous," she added.

"I for one am willing to participate on the Council as they decide what must be done with Nava and Io," announced Cham. "Tamar Ily'an, do you consent to representing them at the hearing?"

"I do," she agreed.

"Remember that you must have three witnesses to validate your claim," he added. "None of them can be Twi'leks."

"I remember the rules," Tamar said dryly. To Ezra she added, "Would you consider being one of my representatives at the hearing?"

"Me?" Ezra pointed a finger at his chest. He was startled on the spot.

Ezra would have been glad to help Tamar but now just learning about the Ryloth High Council and the delicacy of the situation, he was worried about stepping into deep waters. It was true that he was proud of himself such as the time when he spoken between Rex and Kalani when they had been captured by Seperatist droids. Other times, such as when they countered the frosty reception of Countess Wren, were better left to Kanan. What was it he had said at the time? Oh yes, _"Less is more."_

"We cannot permit two Jedi as witnesses," Cham explained. "The master or the apprentice must take a stand."

Hera watched Ezra rub the back of neck. "Kanan worked with Tamar and I on a mission together," he said slowly. "Maybe he should speak before the Council."

"I'm sure he could," Tamar responded neutrally. "But you spent more time with my family and I. Therefore, you have more information to present before the Council."

He felt Hera's gloved hand on his shoulder. "If you're uncomfortable speaking, I'm sure Kanan will fill in for you."

Ezra looked from one Twi'lek to another, hesitation making him silent between their decisions. This would be a big test for Tamar and himself. He remembered another Jedi code that Kanan had taught him: " _One person's words can hold another person's future in their hands_ ". Ezra didn't want to jeopardize Tamar's situation by saying something wrong or foolish in front of the Council.

Yet the Jedi were also expected to pick up the task at hand instead of shoving it aside or to someone else. If Tamar had addressed him first then she must have trusted Ezra enough to vouch for her. He imagined what Kanan would say if he was present and Ezra could feel the knowing hand of the Force, humble and resolute, assuring the padawan that he must take up this opportunity that had been presented to him.

He squared his shoulders back as he addressed Tamar. "I'll be glad to be a witness for the Council."

Over his shoulder, Hera felt a warm glow spread through her and she smiled proudly at her family member.

A-A-A

"What are they saying?" Io whispered. Nava had tried to shove an audio chip into the floorboards but it hadn't work. And Poppy wasn't around to pick up the sounds from another room.

"I can't hear anything," she said at last. Nava got up from the floor and flipped one lekku over her shoulder fretfully. "I guess we'll just have to wait to find out what happens."

"Do you really think Captain Syndulla's father will make us leave?"

Nava frowned in thought. "I hope not." Where there had been fear just a few minutes ago, now she was fighting to suppress the bubbles of anger and fustration that were rising up in her from Cham Syndulla's words.

"He's bossy. Even bossier than Tamar," Io declared. "I don't think he'll let us go to the arcade or decorate our dresses."

"Captain Syndulla will help us out. I'm sure Ezra won't let us down."

The mention of his voice caused Io to draw her knees into her chest. "Yes, he will help us," she murmured in a low voice. "He always takes care of other people."

Nava studied her friend for a moment, relieved to have something else to focus on instead of her current situation. She finally asked, "You have strong feelings for him, don't you?"

"What? No!" Io insisted. She waved her hands in front of herself frantically. "He's just a nice young human man, that's all."

Nava smiled and shook her head. "I may not know everything but I've learned a lot in a few years. I also like Ezra but you seem so sad whenever he leaves."

Io clasped her hands behind her back and looked down. "I have tried, Nava. I honestly have," she finally confessed.

"I thought if I worked hard to better myself then my feelings for him would go away. But instead, they have grown stronger than ever. Sometimes I feel something inside of me hurt when I look at him." She gazed back up with eyes full of unhappiness. "I do not know what to do."

"Tell him the truth," Nava said boldly.

"Oh no, I could not do that," Io insisted in a hurry. "He would despise me again. I think that would hurt even worse than my feelings now."

Nava scooted closer to Io and put a hand on top of hers. "If you keep holding it inside, it'll tear you apart. Besides, he's a Jedi. Tamar said that they're good at understanding people."

"Tamar," Io muttered under her breath. "If she ever found out…"

Just then the door opened and everybody walked in to deliver the news to the girls. As Tamar carefully explained that the Ryloth Council would decide on their futures, Nava could feel the foundation of her life crumbling quickly beneath her. She tried to tell herself that it would be all right but for once in a long time in her life, the rage within her was simmering up and not a single word of optimism could make her feel better.

This wasn't fair at all! She had danced for customers, run errands, made kaff, and always gone to bed on time. Nava had never broken a rule in her life. Why was Captain Syndulla's rude father butting in and ruining everything? This was her home and she did _not_ want to go live with strangers! If only she had Io's stubbornness, Tamar's tongue, or even Miri's resolution to help her stand up. Instead she could sense her heart shrinking away inside of her.

"If the Council decides to separate you two then Nava will likely go to her next of kin," Tamar explained.

"This Senator Taa…his family is my family?" Nava asked warily. She was hoping the answer would be "no" but instead, Cham Syndulla extracted a holo-video of a heavyset blue Twi'lek.

Nava suddenly wanted to yell and shout in protest. That big bloated Twi'lek with the fumbling hands and annoying accent was her deceased uncle?! She suddenly hated him, hated this stranger who had been some infamous senator in a past life and was the reason she was in trouble now. And she hated the general, hated his daughter, and even began to feel hatred growing inside of her for Tamar. Tamar could do anything; why couldn't she fix this?

"He's fat," Io said at last.

"Io, hold your tongue," Tamar ordered her.

"Yes, you must learn to respect your elders," Cham agreed. "A blood sample can be taken later on to confirm that you are both relatives."

"I don't want to be related to anybody!" Nava suddenly cried out. Tamar took a step towards her but Nava backed away.

"Nava, these are the facts and we can't change them," she explained. "You have to face the likely odds that you are related to Senator Taa and will have to go live with his closest family."

A burst of rage flared up in Nava and she suddenly wanted to break something, to hurt someone. She seized a glass figurine on the table and hurled it overhead. Everyone watched it hit the wall and shattered into tiny pieces.

"Nava!" Tamar exclaimed.

"I don't care about anyone!" she screamed. "I hate all of you!"

Nava charged out of the room, shoving Ezra to one side, and kept running down the stairs and out of the café. Her sandals slapped against the pavement and she could still hear Tamar yelling out her name but she didn't care anymore. Nava didn't care if her lungs exploded or her skin turned ugly and warty. She kept running down the streets of Kaller as sobs escaped her mouth and tears streamed away from her face.

She didn't matter anymore.

A-A-A

_Zora the Hutt's cantina, one rotation later:_

Ezra was bombarded by blinding colors and flashing lights in the enormous room. So this was another kind of "club" where he had finally managed to track down Nava. It was definitely nothing like Tamar's club. How did people even manage to talk above the noise? He could barely hear Hogarth's voice on the comm-link.

"I see her!" he shouted to the small metal transmitter in his hand. "I'm going to try and get her out."

Ezra pocketed the comm-link and tried to push past people. His apologies and excuses barely went noticed but he _definitely_ felt a hand stray where it shouldn't have. But there was no time or even room to correct the rude gesture. He was enveloped in a hundred smells of bodies, cheap cologones, and exotic perfumes while everyone around him seemed to be throwing their limbs up and around in delight to the _BUMP-BUMP-BUMP_ thundering tones of the music.

A woman in a skintight orange bodysuit and dangling gold earrings blocked his path. "Why hello there," she purred in a honeyed voice. "Where are you off to, Blue Eyes?"

He ignored her and quickly slipped between two other people to get closer to the stage.

"Back off, kid," barked a man in front of the stage.

"But that's my friend up there," he protested. Ezra pointed to the lithe figure of Nava who was practically writhing with ecstatcy on the stage next to three other dancers. It wasn't a matter of what she was wearing as much as a matter of what she _wasn't_ wearing. All Ezra knew is that he had to mentally buckle down his brain because otherwise he wouldn't be able to figure out how that that garish glittering cloth around her torso and legs was actually being held up. Her neck, wrists, and ankles had been loaded down with gaudy jewelry that rattled and tinkled with all of her movements, driving the crowd wild with delight.

One thing was for sure: Tamar would be vivid with rage if she saw Nava right now.

The bodyguard shoved Ezra back so hard that he nearly feel to the ground.

"Run along, squeaky."

Squeaky! Him?! Ezra wanted to use the Force to flatten the man to the ground but he looked him straight in the eye and waved a hand in the air. "You will let me get my friend back," he said firmly

"Yeah right!" the bodyguard chortled. "When puffer pigs fly!"

Ezra clenched his teeth, willing himself to tune out the music, and concentrated on channeling the Force from himself into the bodyguard's mind. "You _will_ let me get my friend back," he commanded again.

Confusion spread across the man's face and finally his eyes started to grow glassy and blank. "Your…friend…" he mumbled thickly.

That was all the time Ezra had and he sprinted aside, placed both hands on the stage, and propped himself up. Nava turned around and waved at him. The other dancers also flapped their arms with glee to see a young handsome human accompany them in the entertainment.

"Hello, Ezra! Come join the fun!" She may have been smiling but up close, Ezra thought Nava looked utterly ghoulish. Her mouth was smeared in red paint and her brows were shadowed with such thick dark makeup that he could barely see her eyes. Heavy gold earrings jiggled in her earlobs along with her lekku, which had also been decorated with lavish gold paint.

"Nava, I'm here to take you home," he insisted. She acted as if she hadn't heard him and just went right on dancing across the stage.

"Get off the stage, kid! We want to see Nava!" someone shouted.

"No, he's cute! Let him stay!" another called out.

"Do the tango with her, Blue Eyes!" the woman in the bodysuit was cheering.

Force, Force, Force. Was _anything_ easy for a Jedi!?

Ezra began yanking on Nava's wrist, which earned him shouts and boos from the crowd. "Nava, you don't belong here!" he begged. "Please, let's just go home."

She tried to shrug him off. "This is my home. I'm having fun."

"No it isn't!" he finally snapped. "You can't just run away and do whatever you want!"

"Can't I?" Nava shot back. She finally broke loose from his grip and went right into a double-twirl. Ezra had to duck as a half-full beer bottle went flying over his head, sending drops of liquid raining down his head and neck.

"Take off your clothes or get off the stage!" someone screamed. Two empty death-stick holders nearly collided with his face.

Right, screw Jedi mind tricks. In one swipe of his wrist, Ezra cuffed Nava across the brow which temporarily knocked her out. He hadn't wanted to be harsh but Tamar told him that certain contacts with lekku could momentarily send a Twi'lek off-balance. Now that she was nearly slumped over against him, he had to get her off the stage.

The crowd was getting uglier now and Ezra wasn't sure how to get out safely.

"Ezra! Down here!" Never before had Ezra been so grateful to see Hogarth waving his hands at the foot of the stage. Everyone else protested but Hogarth only had to snarl to make himself untouchable. His big frame and scarred face were enough to get people to make way for him and Ezra was sure that the blaster strapped to his thigh was added insurance. Hogarth reached upwards with both arms and helped Ezra slide the Twi'lek off the stage and into his arms.

The big man threw Nava over one shoulder like a sack of tubers. "Anyone else got something to say?" Hogarth boomed out. People quickly cleared a path for him and Ezra as they began to head to the exit.

"What are you doing with my dancer?" Zora the Hutt demanded. The hoverboard had just appeared, blocking their path along with several other fully-armed men. The heaving Hutt blinked his big yellow eyes at both of both.

Ezra gripped his lightsaber, steeling himself for an onsalguht. "Nava doesn't belong to you anymore," he insisted. "She was bought by Tamar Ily'an."

"And she came back willing," Zora said. He beamed with delight. "She's become a marvelous dancer, so lively and graceful! Oh yes, Nava will make twice as much as she did before."

Hogarth quickly nudged Ezra in the ribs. "Follow my lead," he muttered under his breath. Aloud he said, "We'll bring her back soon as we give Nava her shots."

The Hutt's eyes slanted suspiciously. "Shots?"

"Oh yes, her shots," Ezra agreed. "We thought you knew."

"Knew about what?"

"The epidemic on Kaller," Hogarth replied. "Half the planet is on lockdown right now. No wonder Nava left in such a hurry."

He gave Ezra another jab in the chest and the padawan broke out into a fit of coughs. "Sorry," he tried to gasp as he brought a fist to his mouth. "She needs-"

"Epidemic?!" Zora flapped his arms up and down. "Out! Out! Get out, you filthy germ-infested humans! Take Nava and get away before you infect all of us!"

Ezra needed no further commands and quickly ran after Hogarth. The doors to the club slammed rudely behind them. Relieved to be away, Ezra and Hogarth headed to the small shuttle that Hogarth had rented for the night. The chilly night air quickly cleaned out the smells of the club from Ezra's lungs. He could hear some night bird screeching restlessly in the distance.

"How'd you know that would work?" he asked Hogarth.

"Nava's told me about Zora in the past," the big man smirked. "Seems the Hutts have been wary each other since one of 'em got 'bumped off' during the Clone Wars."

"So he's afraid of germs?"

"Germs, assassinations, earthquakes, anything that could fall on his head..."

Hogarth said nothing else as he strapped Nava into her seat and then made sure Ezra was also secured before they took off. Soon they were back in the quiet abyss of space and traveling hastily back to Kaller. Nava started to wake up and moan that her head hurt.

"Sorry about that," Ezra apologized. Nava just blinked in confusion around her and tried to process what had just gone on.

"Can you hear me?" Hogarth asked her. She nodded. "Good. Ezra, cover your ears," he was ordered.

The padawan did as he was told without asking further questions. Even with his ears slightly muffled, Ezra could still hear loud and clear as Hogarth suddenly exploded with rage and began bellowing in Nava's face in a voice louder than Ezra had ever heard him speak before. The veins in his neck pulsated and throbbed as he vented out.

 _"...think I'm going to let you shame yourself by writhing in front of those slimy bastards, heaving like some crate-spit floozy!?"_ he thundered at Nava. _"After everything Tamar's done for you and you'd throw it away like some piece of garbage? Is that all you wanna be in life, a piece of kritch-ass garbage?!"_

"N-no," Nava stammered meekly.

"Damn right you don't, young lady," Hogarth growled. He raised a hand in the air and brought it crashing down. For a split second, Ezra thought he was going to strike across Nava's face, but Hogarth just brought his meaty fist into his own palm with a loud _SMACK_.

"When we get home the first thing you're going to do is apologize to Tamar and _then_ you're going to clean yourself up and _then_ you're going straight to bed. Go it?" he said with a fierce glare.

"Got it," she said with a small hiccup.

Ezra had stopped blocking his ears and tried to look very hard at his boots to avoid either of them. For about ten minutes there was uncomfortable silence between the three of them. The cockpit's only sound was that of the engine humming and Nava's soft sniffeling.

When she finally came out her voice was weak and frail. "You...you called me a..." she whispered.

"He said you acted like one, not that you are-or where one," Ezra explained abruptly. One sharp glance from Hogarth made his face redden. " _Maybe I shouldn't talk to the Council after all,_ " Ezra thought.

"And I meant it," said Hogarth in a less gruff tone. He let out a massive weary sigh. "C'mon, Nava. You were raised better than this."

"I know," she mumbled in agreement. "I just, I just felt so mad hearing the general talk about handing me over to some strangers. It's like everyone else knows better than me."

"Zora the Hutt doesn't know better than you," Hogarth told her. "Running away from a problem usually ends up running into another one." Then he looked at Ezra and added, "Right?"

"Right," the padawan agreed with fresh relief. He noticed Nava's makeup had run down her cheeks in broken black and red lines. Her skin looked splotchy and her eyes were puffy. Ezra reached for a fresh cloth in the compartment overhead and handed it to her. Those cotton swabs were usually meant to wipe off oil stains but it was a clean one and he figured it couldn't hurt Nava.

Nava took the cloth from him and wiped at her face. "Tamar will be furious with me," she added.

Ezra lightly patted her on the shoulder. "I think she'll be more relieved to see that you're okay."

A look of worry crossed Nava's face. "What if she doesn't want me around anymore after the way I behaved tonight?"

"She will," the padawan insisted. "You matter too much for Tamar to give up on you."

Nava had gotten most of the makeup off her face and folded the cloth in her lap. "I'm sorry I ran away and behaved like a floozy," she said at last.

"You were angry. We all do dumb things when we're angry," Hogarth relented. He paused and added, "I'm sorry I yelled at you and scared you like that."

"You _are_ very scary when you yell," Nava agreed.

"As scary as Tamar?"

"Scarier," she confessed.

A-A-A

_Kaller:_

All attempts to stand tall and apologize properly like a lady went out the window when they arrived back home.

"Thank stars, you found her!" Tamar exclaimed. She stretched out her hands to Nava in a gesture of comfort and the young Twi'lek nearly fell into Tamar's arms and began to cry again. Tamar let her bawl loud and clear for several minutes as Nava babbled away, saying how sorry she was for running away and begging for Tamar's forgiveness. She was sure she'd be grounded for life for this.

But instead, Tamar was wonderfully calm and steadfast as she rubbed a hand across Nava's shoulderblades. "It's all right, Nava. Everything will be all right." She broke out of the embrace long enough to hold Nava at arm's length and look her up and down. "Are you hurt at all?" she asked with concern.

"I'm fine," Nava assured her.

"She's okay," Hogarth confirmed. "Just needs some rest and quiet time."

Tamar sighed with relief. "I'm glad to hear it. Thank you, both of you, for getting her back home." She gave Hogarth and Ezra nods of gratitude and then said, "Nava, I'm going to draw up a hot bath for you and then we'll have a little talk."

Nava winced. "Punishment?"

"Not now," Tamar assured her. "Bath and lavender first." She took Nava's hand and guided her up the stairs to their rooms.

The full effect of the day's adventures began to catch up with Ezra and he stretched his hands over his head. "Okay if I crash here tonight?" he asked Hogarth.

"I've got a spare comforter in my room," Hogarth assured him. "Mind checking on Io first? Just making sure nobody else tries climbing out the window tonight."

"Sure, good idea." He headed to the other bedroom while Hogarth managed a small smile of relief.

A-A-A

Tamar's bathtub was a real treat instead of using the usual five-minute refresher. Brimming with hot water and sprinkled with lavender, the tub soothed Nava's troubles away as she soaked herself for nearly half an hour. She watched the dregs swirl down the drain along with the last drops of her melted makeup and then looked at her face in the mirror. A smooth steady green complexion like summer grass and clear bright eyes looked back at her. Yes, Nava felt pretty again.

She changed into nightclothes and then came into the bedroom where Tamar let her lay down on the mattress while she rubbed a sweet-scented oil into her shoulders. The tightness in Nava's muscles gradually gave way as Tamar's fingers deftly smoothed across her skin. Nava sighed in blissful relief, feeling cool and calm at last. With the softness of the mattress beneath her and Tamar's firm gentle voice above, she was almost happy. _"If only we didn't have to face that Council_ ," she thought to herself.

"My aunt and I used to have shouting matches," Tamar told her. "My, we could argue with each other for hours on end. But sometimes when I was too upset to talk she'd let me come into her room and she'd rub my shoulders like this."

"Really?" Nava asked. Tamar nodded in confirmation.

"Everyone gets angry, Nava. I know it can feel good to break free and use that anger to defy rules. But Nava, families need rules and structure to keep them strong and connected. Without them they will fall and break apart."

"Just like how Poppy scans our building's foundation so that it doesn't fall apart?" Nava asked.

"Yes, exactly like that," Tamar agreed.

Nava looked over her shoulder. "If General Syndulla has me taken away, will our family break up?"

"No it won't," Tamar assured her firmly. "We will still be connected to each other wherever we go. As long as you take those good values with you, you won't be alone. And I'll see if I can get the Council's permission to visit you from time to time."

Nava leaned down and rested her head in Tamar's lap. "I still don't want to leave."

"I know, dear. I know." Tamar gently stroked the girl's head.

A-A-A

A different sort of girl was awake and clearly irritated when Ezra found Io in her bedroom. She was sitting on a quilt and stabbing a piece of cloth with a needle. Her expression lightened up for a moment when she saw him but then she frowned again and went back to sewing.

"It isn't fair," she told Ezra. "I have done everything to be polite and productive and I am still going to have my family taken away from me."

"You don't know that," he admitted.

"But it could happen," she insisted. Io put the sewing aside and folded her hands in her lap. "First I was born on Ryloth. Then Baron Sparr took me into his home. Then I was arrested by the the stormtroopers. Then Tamar adopted me. Now I don't know where I am going."

She raised her hands in an expression of perplexity. "I am only fifteen years old. I do not think I can tolerate all these changes. If I live to be one hundred, I may have well moved around the galaxy."

"Well," said Ezra slowly. "Not the entire galaxy, anyway. It's a lot bigger than you think it is."

"Yes, you would know. You have moved around quite a lot," Io remarked. She got off the bed and walked towards Ezra. "Can we not just leave together, just the two of us? Then General Syndulla and Tamar won't be troubled anymore."

Ezra quickly shook his head. "Io, we can't just-"

"-Tamar taught me to keep home," she interrupted eagerly. "I can cook and clean for you. I will be proper and respectful at all times."

He opened his mouth to protest but no sooner had Io made her proposal then she shook her head. "I know the answer already. You will not run away, will you? Jeh-di do not run."

 _"Not from or to everything,_ " thought Ezra. Aloud he said, "Hera's my captain. If I run away then I'll be abandoning her and the Rebellion. And if you run away, you might do something that you regret."

"I already have many regrets," Io said in a surprisingly grave tone.

"Then don't let them pull you down," he insisted. "You're only fifteen years old. You can still have a good future."

"This is the 'hope' you speak of so much, isn't it?"

"Sometimes, when nothing seems to go right, hope is all we have," Ezra admitted honestly. "Hope that things will get better."

She pursed up her lips in thought. "When you say things like that it actually makes me want to believe you."

Ezra couldn't tell if this comment was an accusation towards him or acceptance of facts. He suddenly couldn't think of anything to say and only starred at the petite purple-skinned girl for a few more moments. Then he broke his gaze and headed for the door.

"Ezra?" Io sudden piped up a in a frantic voice.

His hand left the doorpost he was leaning on and he turned back to face her. "What is it?"

"I..." A lump of fear had hardened in Io's throat and she strained to speak. When she did at last, her voice was faint and soft.

"I, I think that I am in love with you."

Her words felt painfully loud within the still room. Nobody spoke for several seconds. Finally, much to Io's relief, she heard Ezra exhale.

 _"And now he can rebuke me all he wants_ ," she thought to herself. _"How could I ever have been so foolish as to care for a Jedi?"_

"Oh!" he finally said at last. He looked nervous and uncomfortable, averting his eyes away from Io as his hand scratched the back of his head. This was not the reaction she had expected. Io anticipated him to chastise her and remind Io that there were far more important things to focus on in a time of war.

"I, uh..." Ezra finally managed to glance at her but then had to look away again. "Since when?"

"I do not know because it came over me very slowly," she explained. "But I think it started when we had that talk from your ship back to Kaller, when you showed me your light-saber and told me about the Jeh-di."

It was easier to talk now and get it over with. So Io pressed on, letting the words flow freely from her lips. "You told me how difficult it was to do the right things but important to becoming a better person. So I tried to be good but I could not stop thinking about you and hoping that you were safe."

She took a breath and finished her speech. "I am certain that you are not in love with me and do not have feelings for me as I do for you. But please, do not despise me. Know that I have tried my best and..."

Her lips quivered and she could not go on. Io blinked unshed tears from her eyes and stood rigidly as she waited for the Jedi's verdict.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

This was not what Io thought she would be hearing. Io starred at him through blurry eyes. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Io." Ezra walked back to Io and then much to her surprise, took her hand in his own. His blue eyes were full of sadness and sympathy. "I'm so sorry," he said a third time, speaking softly to Io as if she was a scared Loth-kit. "I had no idea you were hurting this much."

He swallowed and added, "You were brave to tell me the truth."

He watched her small body nearly shiver with unspoken emotions and then she stammered out, "I'm glad."

"Then why are you crying?"

She touched her face and found it damp with tears. She was overwhelmed with this gentleness and acceptance, this brush of the Force that felt her pain and allowed her to accept it, to let this unhappy but sincere emotion move through her until it would finally leave Io and let her go on stronger than before.

"I think I am so grateful to be able to tell you this." Two tears trickled further down her face. "You do not despise me?"

"Of course I don't," Ezra assured her. "You're changed so much from when I first met you. Now you're kind, honest, and caring."

Io closed her eyes as two final tears chased down her cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, Ezra." Taking the padawan's hand in hers, she lifted it up and lightly kissed his fingertips with reverence. He made no movement to break their content and allowed her lips to brush against his skin for a minute until Io was done.

"I am better," she said at last. "Because I have met you."

He remained quiet as Io held his hand between her own. "If you do not despite me or love me," she asked. "Then what do you feel for me?"

Io was answered with a human hand that lightly touched the side of her face. Then she was dumbstruck to feel the soft brush of Ezra Bridger's lips on her own.

It was not the chaste kiss of a Jedi or the passionate fire of a soldier. It was somewhere in between, calm and tender, as it filled Io with an emotion that was bittersweet and strong. She felt surprisingly serene, not at all giddy or mad with lust, with the tender sensation of Ezra's lips on hers and one of his hands resting lightly upon her waist. There was no need to push or press this moment any further from what it was; a moment that the Force accepted for both of them. And somehow, Io knew it, and chose to stand perfectly still and let the gentleness of their connection linger peacefully between them.

"You smell like flowers," Ezra mumbled at last.

"And you taste like the sky," Io murmured back.

"The sky?"

"Endless," she whispered. "Free. Wondrous." Her head tilted down ever so slightly as her eyes closed contently. "So that is what you feel for me."

"Yes," he agreed.

When Ezra drew back she asked, "Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Io..."

"Just sleep next to me, that is all," she persisted. "I will not do anything wrong. I just do not want to be alone tonight." Her eyes wided and she added, "Ezra, _please_." The helpleness in her tone was sincere and he was too exhausted to protest any longer.

"Okay," Ezra relented at last. "But that's all."

She sighed and pressed her face into his chest. Ezra tried to stagger backwards towards the bed while he shrugged off his jacket but Io nearly hooked her fingers into his chest.

"No", she whimpered frantcially. "No, no."

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured her. "Io, I'm right here." His words calmed her down long enough to let Ezra loosen his jacket and kick off his boots. He sat down on the bed and the stretched himself out flat on his back. Io turned the lights down and then climbed onto the bed and curled up next to Ezra, resting her head just against his shoulder. He could feel a small warm palm resting upon his chest.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Trying to find your heartbeat."

He took Io's hand and moved it up closer to the left side of his chest until she could feel the steady pusling sensation of the life organ beating inside of him. Ezra's eyelids grew heavy and he yawned, feeling exhaustion creeping over his limbs.

"Will you tell me some more about Lothal?"

"Tomorrow," he promised sleepily.

"Why not now?"

"Because it's late. Now it's time to go to sleep."

"I don't want to go to sleep," Io admitted even as her own voice grew drowsy. "Because if I do then tomorrow will come. And I don't want it to. I want to stay like this forever."

Ezra let her comment linger in the air before speaking at last. "I know."

When Hogarth came to check on them, he found the teens curled up and sleeping peacefully in each others arms like two content Loth-cats.

A-A-A

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

Kriff, why didn't Chopper just hit him over the head with a locking wand? Ezra groaned and rolled over.

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

"Rise and shine, you two." Nope, that wasn't Chopper.

He finally opened his eyes and saw Tamar standing over the bed looking confident as ever in her freshly-ironed business suit. Daylight was coming in through the windows and he could even hear Nava humming from downstairs. Ezra's attention went from Tamar to Io and then back to Tamar. It was true that both teens had their clothes on but the sight of the two of them on the bed was _definitely_ bringing back some unwanted memories.

Io gasped and seized the blanket as if it could protect her from Tamar's judgement.

"We did not-that is-we fell asleep," she explained quickly. Io frantically looked at Ezra for help but he was scrambling off the bed as fast as possible.

Tamar was nonchalant as ever. "I hope you both slept well. We have a busy day ahead." She gestured to the door. "Nava's been up for half an hour. Io can use my refresher to wash up and Ezra can use the one down the hall. Hurry up before your breakfast gets cold."

Io whisked some clothes into her arms and sped out as quickly as possible. Ezra reached for his jacket to see Tamar remained calm and in place without a trace of anger on her face. "Io's right, we didn't do anything wrong last night," he insisted.

"Of course you didn't," Tamar agreed. "Because you know that if you were up to something inappropriate under my roof then I would make both of your lives a living nightmare."

Her lips twitched with amusement just before Tamar strode out of the room.

A-A-A

Hogarth had made an outstanding breakfast for everyone. There were bowls of hot grain-cereal for each of them, topped with a silky poached egg and melting cheese. There were stacks of crisp toast with butter melting down the sides like honeycombs and pitchers of fresh tea and hot chocolate too.

Everything smelled and tasted amazing but Ezra and Io picked restlessly at their breakfast. On the other side of the table, Nava was eating heartily and even Tamar was enjoying her daily cup of kaff. The girls were dressed in matching blue tunics and to Ezra, they couldn't look any more innocent or respectable than possible.

"What are you going to say to the Council?" Nava asked Ezra.

He put down his toast back on the plate. "I'm not sure," Ezra said slowly. "But I think it would be important to mention how responsible Tamar has been in taking care of all of us."

"Whatever you say will be fine," Tamar assured him.

Ezra starred in disbelief. "How can you handle this so calmly?" he asked her. "I don't want to mess this up!"

Tamar looked at him from over her cup. "I trust you," she said at last. "When the time comes, I am confident that the right words will come to you."

"But with the wrong words I could destroy your family," Ezra warned her.

"If General Syndulla and the Ryloth Council make a verdict against me it will be of no fault of your own, Ezra Bridger. That responsibility will fall to me." She put down her cup of kaff. "I do not anticipate ideal results. My only request is that you defend my case to the best of your ablities."

Ezra felt a little better. "You can count on me," he assured her. He picked up his toast and resumed chewing again.

"I have an idea," Io spoke up. "What if Nava and I misbehave so much that nobody else will want us? Then the Council will ask you to take us back."

"Absolutely not," her guardian answered. "Regardless of how this turns out, I want you two to be on your best behavior. No daughters of Ryloth are going to make anything less than the best impression on the Council."

Upon hearing her guardian's decision, Io nodded in compliance and went back to eating.

A-A-A

_Renovated Correllian freight-transport; Mid Rim Space:_

The Ghost was swiftly approaching the space carrier where Hera and Kanan would be meeting everyone else at the Ryloth High Council.

Kanan had listened attentively to Hera's troubles and sympathized with her frustrations. "He's being relentless and big-headed," she vented outwards. "I thought my father and I were finally fixing those bridges between us but now having him drag Tamar and her family into the Council..." Hera's lekku twitched as she shook her head.

"It isn't like him to get directly involved in personal matters, is it?" Kanan asked.

"No, it isn't. Which is why this bothers me even more than it did with the carrier over Ryloth." Hera muttered under her breath, "I hope this isn't payback for when I blew up our house."

Chopper beeped away fretfully behind them, reminding his oh-so faithful captain that _he_ was the one who had planted the bombs all over the Syndulla household.

"I'm sure it isn't that," the Jedi said slowly. "Which makes me wonder if we're misinterpreting your father's intentions all along."

Hera's head jerked aside. "What do you mean?"

She watched Kanan's fingers stroke his beard and by now could anticipate a carefully thought-out remark as he delved into the wisdom of his ancestors. "Like you said, it isn't like your father to get involved in non-military operations. Maybe he's trying to fix a bridge between himself and Senator Taa or..."

"Or?" Hera went on.

"Or maybe," Kanan went on. "This isn't about the girls, the senator, or your father at all. Maybe this is all about Tamar."

"He's punishing her?"

"Or testing her."

He turned his head to face her as he spoke this last sentence. Kanan could sense Hera's brow wrinkling in thought as she contemplated his opinion. Then the tense aura around her began to dissipate as a realization came over her.

"You're suggesting that my father believes that Tamar should prove herself to the Council." He could hear the slow smile coming over her face. "He _wants_ Tamar to fight for her family."

"And if Tamar wins then nobody can take them away from her," Kanan added.

Inspired by her comrade's words, Hera steered the Ghost into the transport.

A-A-A

"It looks like junk," Io whispered to Nava.

"Shh!" her friend hushed her. True, the transporter was an ugly piece of a building hovering in space, but Hera assured them that the Council picked this part of random space because ironically, it was too far from Ryloth to stir up any unwanted attention. Nevertheless, she had Chopper plug himself into the security mainframe just in case any pirates or smugglers started poking around.

General Syndulla was seated at a long low table flanked a Twi'lek on either side: a lithe ivory-skinned man on one side with pale gray eyes and a robust red-skinned woman on the other. Three brass ornaments were placed before them and Ezra assumed they were some talismans or valuable relics that were obligated to be there as part of the session.

Seated in chairs before the Council were Tamar and her family on one side and Ezra, Kanan, and Hera on the other. Everyone took their places and waited for the session to begin. At that moment a thought came over Ezra: " _We need three witnesses and Kanan's word isn't valid here. If there's Hogarth and myself then who-"_

"This meeting of the Ryloth High Council is now in session," Cham Syndulla aloud in a strong clear voice. "We are hear to discuss the legal guardianship of Nava Oren and Miss Io," he added. "These two young ladies have no concrete data to confirm their biological parents or family history. Miss Oren's current status is a potential descendant of the Taa family but that cannot be confirmed until we have completed our verdict."

He gestured to Tamar. "You are Tamar Ily'an, daughter of Iscar and Hanu Ily'an?"

Tamar rose from her chair and straightened her spine. "I am," she answered calmly.

"And what is your connection to these girls?"

Her eyes met each member of the Council before speaking again. "I have no legal authority to them," she said at last. "I discovered Nava when she was a dancer for Zora the Hutt and hired her to help run my business. Io was released into my custody by the I.S.B. on the condition that she continue to be a productive citizen."

"Why was she arrested by the I.S.B?" the red-skinned Twi'lek demanded.

"To compensate for her late master's debts," Tamar responded fluidly.

Ezra watched Io glance at the floor, no doubt grateful how Tamar had handled the delicate situation.

"So you confess to the Council that you acted of your own accord, and consulted with no one else, when you brought them into your home." Tamar nodded. "Then your current claim on them is invalid. We will ask the witnesses to speak on your behalf."

The red-skinned Twi'lek gestured to Ezra. "Rise," she ordered him.

Ezra took a deep breath, placed his hands on the sides of his chair, and slowly got up. He could feel everyone's eyes upon him but the quickest glance at Kanan was just the boost of confidence he needed.

"Please state your name for the Council."

"Ezra Bridger, son of Mira and Ephriam Bridger."

"And you are a Jedi?" the woman inquired curiously.

"Yes, ma'am. The padawan of Kanan Jarrus," he agreed. Ezra hoped she wouldn't think that he was correcting her or that it was inappropriate to mention Kanan's name. But if this was a court of law then he didn't want to omit anything that could be misinterpreted later.

"Jedi Bridger, you now have permission to speak on behalf of Tamar Ily'an."

"Thank you, ma'am. But before my testimony, I would like to ask the Council's permission to hear from Nava Oren herself."

Nava's toes and fingers instantly went numb when she heard Ezra say her name. The Council members murmured among themselves and Kanan and Hera turned to each other with surprise.

"This is a violation of protocol," said the ivory-skinned Twi'lek.

"It is," Ezra agreed boldly. "But we're not living in typical times, are we? If we were, the Council would take place directly on Ryloth instead of an outdated cruiser-carrier in the mid-Rim. And our droid wouldn't have to stand by in place of security guards."

Chopper let out a definitive grunt from the other room.

Cham looked intriuged by Ezra's words. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that the Council has two values to prioritize." Ezra gestured to Nava and Io. "If you had to chose between the safety of these daughters of Ryloth or the protocol of your past, which one would you choose?"

The three of them leaned heads together and murmured softly. "It is unanimous that the safety of our chilren takes priorty," said the male Twi'lek.

Ezra nodded in confirmation. "Ryloth is fortunate to have people who take responsbility and look after each other." This genuine compliment from the young Jedi had the desired effect on the Council and their faces seemed to brighten from his words. Hera and Kanan each felt a swell of pride from Ezra's words.

"Honored members of the Council, I'm asking you not to break your sacred protocol, but delay it long enough to allow Nava to speak her mind. Then you can hear our testimonies."

"Very well," the woman said. She then gestured for Nava to stand. The green Twi'lek appeared nervous but Ezra gave her an encouraging smile. She coughed to clear her throat and started to speak.

"There are a lot of words I've heard people describe Tamar but—" Nava's steady stream of words quickly came to a halt.

She could easily rattle off a list of those words but realized they would not be helpful. And with Captain Syndulla and Ezra watching her, Nava decided that it would not help their case. Ezra was still observing her, his gaze open and patient, as he anticipated Nava to talk.

"It's all right, child." She was puzzled to hear Cham Syndulla reassure her in such a polite voice. "You may speak freely here."

"All right," she said at last. Nava took an extra moment to smooth down her tunic. "I think what matters more than words is actions. And..." She paused again, this time looking at Tamar. "And some actions are so generous that you know that you'll never be able to pay them back."

"How so?" asked one Council member.

A crazy thought popped into Nava's mind and she seized it. "Does the Council know that Tamar paid two thousand credits to buy me from Zora the Hutt?" she blurted out.

A murmur of surprise rose up from the other Twi'leks. "We do not. Does Tamar Ily'an have confirmation of this payment?" asked the man.

"I do indeed," Tamar said. "There was no way I was going to let Zora or anybody else discredit the payment in an attempt to abduct Nava back into their circles. Chopper can provide a copy of the holo-receipt in less than five minutes."

"I think it is only fair that if you transfer me from Tamar's home to another one, Tamar should be fully reimbursed for her troubles," Nava demanded.

The Council began chattering away again. "Two thousand credits!?" blurted the woman.

"And if you want Io to move too then it should be four thousand," Nava added brightly. "Plus a bonus for all the food and clothes that Tamar has provided for us." She met Ezra's gaze. "Does the Jedi agree that six thousand credits would be an acceptable exchange?"

He could barely restrain a grin. "I certainly do."

"That's a small fortune!" bellowed the man. He turned to Cham. "General Syndulla, you cannot expect anyone to be so crass as to forfeit an enormous amount of money for two girls! Tell this child she is making ridiculous demands."

Cham Syndualla was leaning back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest, looking surprisingly at ease.

"Do not ask her," he said cooly. "Ask the Jedi."

"Young Jedi, your kind do not place value on material items. Surely this debt can be easily dissolved," the Council member persisted.

"I'm sorry but it would be an act of deception to the Council if I didn't come clear," Ezra said. "I haven't always been a Jedi. And some material items are important for us to live. Back on Lothal I stole food and money for myself to survive because I thought being a thief was better than being a beggar. But even worse than those two is being a slave or a prisoner. They never know a moment's peace because they live in constant fear under the hand of a master who can destroy them in the blink of an eye."

Kanan was growing steadily impressed with his apprentice's words and next to him, Hera was watching with enthralled wonder as Ezra pursued his defense.

"Members of the Ryloth High Council, the fact of the matter is that these young women before you were once slaves and prisoners. The Hutts and the Empire had full control over their lives. Tamar Ily'an rescued them, gave them a home, and provided them with love and support." Ezra's gaze swept around the room before resting on Tamar. "Such integrity and kindness is worth far more than six thousand credits. It is a life-debt, a bond between family that can never be matched."

He concluded his speech and sat back down. Everyone else was silent. Cham Syndulla looked dutifully impressed while his peers were dumbstruck. Nava was twisted a handkerchief in her hands and even Hogarth looked misty-eyed.

Ezra felt a hand on his shoulder and realized it was that of Kanan. The Jedi said nothing and with the visor over his eyes, Ezra couldn't see his full expression. But the smile beneath it was one of such pride and admiration of his student that Ezra found himself lost for words at last.

Before anyone else could continue the session, Chopper wheeled into the room chirping fretfully.

"TIE fighters!?" Hera shouted. She was on her feet at once. "How close?"

Chopper whistled and frantically waved his mechanical arms in the air.

"Father, we have to get out of here now!" she ordered Cham.

"Agreed." He helped his fellow Council members to their feet. "Safety before protocol. We will resume this session at another time and place." He began to help them to his own ship while Hera gestured for Tamar and her family to follow her.

"You're all coming with us on the Ghost," she insisted.

"No arguing with that," Hogarth agreed. They began heading towards the Ghost but the rickety carrier had too many winding tunnels that hadn't properly been replaced. Even as they staggered through the dimly-lit passages, Ezra could hear the screech of TIE fighters.

_SCHRRRUNNCH!_

The entire carrier gave a terrifying tilt to one side, sending people and random pieces of metal slamming against the wall. Ezra could smell metal burning and was positive that they had taken at least two direct hit. A scream from Nava confirmed the worse as she had been knocked against a wall and pinned in place by a rusty container.

"Chopper, get the gravity stabilized!" Hera called out.

When the carrier began to regain standard gravity hold, Nava managed to push off the container. Her right foot felt as if was being pierced by thousands of red-hot needles.

"Don't move!" Hogarth ordered her. In a hearbeat he was kneeling down next to her. "Can you put your arms around me?" Fighting back tears of pain, Nava managed to reach up and loop her arms around his neck. She let out another shriek when a second stab of pain went through her but Hogarth managed to hoist her up. Seeing Hera before him he called out, "Keep going! I'll met you at the Ghost."

She wasted no time and scrambled into her ship, then hastily began fiddling with the security locks. "Damn," she cursed aloud. "The Ghost is stuck bolted to this carrier. We'll have to manually release the hatch from the outside before we take off."

"It's too dangerous. Let me see if I can release it from here," Kanan suggested.

"Too risky, love."

"I'll do it," Tamar demanded.

"Tamar, no!" Ezra shouted. But she had already raced out of the Ghost back into the carrier, yelling back long enough from him to hear her say, "It's all right! I'll release the hatch and come back!"

Another shuddering jolt went through the carrier and the Ghost. "Hera," Kanan began.

"I know! I know! Chopper, start the engines!"

Tamar raced further back into the carrier until she saw Hogarth carrying Nava in his arms.

"Go ahead! I'm making sure we get out in one piece," she said.

"Boss, you can't just make us—"

" _Run_!" she screamed in his face. "Now! That's an order, Hogarth!"

It was the first and only time she had blown up in his face. Come hell to pay, Hogarth would have refused that order and stayed put but Nava was nearly delirious with pain in his arms. Between facing a squad of stormtroopers or a broken foot, Hogarth knew which option he'd chose for Nava.

"Get that locking hatch down and meet us at the Ghost," he told Tamar. She nodded in agreement and then they parted ways: Tamar began pushing down as hard as she could to release the hatch while Hogarth managed to get into the Ghost.

He deposited Nava into Kanan's outstretched arms with relief. "I'm going to help Tamar," he insisted. But upon attempting to leave the Ghost, the door had been double-locked.

"Tamar!" he shouted, banging on the door.

The entire ship was rocking back and forth. Ezra could see two more TIE fighters screeching by the windows and knew that Hera had to make a horrible decision that she would regret.

"Chopper, are we loose yet?" The astromech beeped in confirmation just as a small red light on the Ghost's computer flickered and then flashed to a steady green. Ezra's stomach was churning restlessly as he felt the ship around him give one final shudder and then the long reluctant groan as it broke away from the carrier.

"If we take one more hit to the engines then we're stuck here!"

"I know! I know!"

The engines of the Ghost rose up in sound and hummed restlessly. Ezra saw a flash of blue and white lights stream past the windows just before the Ghost blasted defiantly into hyperspace.

A-A-A

_One hour later:_

"You left her behind!" Nava screamed at Hera. "You abandoned Tamar!" She had momentarily forgotten the spasms and aches in her foot as she glared at the captain of the Ghost in accusation. Now stretched out on a cot and with her foot wrapped in a bandage, she beat her fist in the air.

"Nava, she pulled down that hatch so we could all get away," Hogarth said gently. "It wasn't Captain Syndulla's fault."

Nava dropped her head into her hands and sobbed. "Tamar," she moaned over and over again.

Whatever self-loathing Hera had for herself for what she had done, she pushed it aside and summoned her courage forward as she knelt down beside Nava. "I swear to you I'm going to do everything in my power to get Tamar back," she promised Nava. "And my father and the Council just called in from Kalsport to confirm they're safe. They'll also pull out all of their resources to help us."

"But, but the Empire!" Nava protested. "What will they do if they capture her?"

"Tamar has a special work license as an Imperial citzen, remember?" said Hogarth. "She knows how to keep a cool head. She can handle their bureaucracy."

He patted Nava on the wrist and then followed Hera to the other room so that he could help her get the hyperdrive up-to-par.

Nava wanted to burst into tears again but was halted when Kanan approached her. "Will you let me try something to help your foot?" he asked. His tone was so calm and soothing that she nodded in agreement. Nava watched the Jedi gently unwrap the adhesive around her foot. The skin was swollen and purple against Nava's usual green coloring. She watched with trepidition and curiosity as Kanan placed a hand on either side of her ankle, holding it gently in place as if cradling a wounded bird.

She could feel a cool soothing sensation coming over her skin as if he had placed cooling packets around her bones, and yet there was no unpleasant numbing feeling that followed.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm trying to use the Force to reduce the pain," he explained gently. "But I need you to stay calm for a little while."

She still felt frightened and hurt, yet not as much as she had a moment ago. Nava did as she was told and kept herself in place while the Jedi continue to apply the lightest of pressure. She could feel her breath coming out in short soft gasps. The cool sensation was seeping into her bones, drawing out the pulsating heat of inflammation.

"That's good," Kanan assured her. "Keep breathing." He waited another moment as the Force continued to stream through his fingertips into Nava's ankle.

"I can feel the bones in your foot. There's a fracture but it will heal in time," he assured her. The Jedi managed a flicker of a smile. "You'd better stay off dancing for now." He secured her bandage back in place and the propped her foot up with a pillow.

"Hera and Hogarth are right. We're going to do everything it takes to find her."

Kanan felt someone draw nearer to him. Lanky arms moved around his shoulders and he could hear the brush of lekku as Nava buried her head in his chest. "Its my fault Tamar is gone," she said thickly. "If I hadn't broken my foot...if we all got out safely..."

He chose to say nothing; she was too close to shock and shame to comprehend anything else. But Kanan let Nava weep, his hand steadying itself into the small of her back to hold her in place. He waited a few minutes until she was more calm to speak further.

"You didn't do this," he insisted gently. "It was the TIE fighters that that attacked the carrier and caused you to get hurt."

"But, but if I had never met Tamar in the first place," she stammered. "Then we all wouldn't be here with the Council..."

"If you hadn't met Tamar, do you think she'd be happy to know that you were still dancing for Zora?" he asked.

Nava was speechless. "N-no," she finally murmured. "I know I've been happy from the first day that we met."

"And I'm sure that Tamar's life has been all that brighter having you in it," Kanan assured her.

"How can you know that?"

"Through the Force I can sense peoples' emotions," Kanan explained. "There's a certain aura that they give off, like a specific color or a song, that I'm able to connect with to understand them better. Tamar must have been concerned at the start of the meeting with the Council but I could tell by the end she was smiling inside, even if I couldn't see her smiling on the outside. You and Ezra made a good impression on everyone."

Nava blinked through her wet eyes and gave the Jedi a small smile of gratitude. "If you want to help Tamar, the best thing you can do is stay here and rest for now. Can you be strong for her?" Nava gulped but nodded in silent agreement. She let Kanan cover her with a blanket and tuck her in, then let her head drop to one side. Nava's eyes closed in silent acceptance while her thoughts of Tamar streamed out among the stars streaking past the Ghost.

Kanan stepped into the Ghost's hallway and then could sense the warm humming presence of Io and Ezra nearby. Ezra had just walked into his room and Io was about to follow him. But he stopped her by catching Io on the shoulder. Kanan shook his head at Io. "You have to let him help Tamar in his own way."

"How so?"

"He's going to try a Force connection to find her," Kanan assured her. "You just have to be patient and give Ezra his space."

"I trust Ezra," Io said. "But I do not trust the Empire."

Kanan said nothing. At this point there _was_ nothing he could say to fix things. But he would make contact with their friends in some of the shadowy places of the galaxy to ask if they had heard of anything and he was confidnet that Hera would inform the other squadrons to look out for any transfer of a prisoner of Tamar's descriptions.

Several tense hours passed. Nava slept. Hogarth mended wires. Io polished small gears. Hera sent out transmissions and Kanan listened for incoming messages. Ezra stayed locked in his room and wrapped deep within the Force's grasp.

Finally, a terrible verdict flared up from Blue Squadron who had managed to fly by their previous coordinates.

The infamous Star Destroyer known as the Chimera had been spotted near the carrier's location. The Imperial ship had not tarried long and soon vanished into hyperspace. The carrier had been obliterated before doing so.

While Kanan and Hera gently tried to break the unfortunate news to Tamar's family, Ezra could feel a cold brush of danger creeping up his spine.

END OF SUNFLOWER

A-A-A

Author's notes:

Nava's story was the toughest challenge for me. When I wrote her in the first story she was going to be the mischief cute flirt but that role soon fell to Io and she greedily gobbled it up. That left Nava as the "middle child" and with a sweet personality, I didn't consider her a rebellious girl. So her conflict became a custody battle. But just because she's innocent and charming, she has her own frustrations when she thinks her good life hasn't paid off. As Michael Wex says, "You don't get brownie points for not robbing a bank". Abstaining from bad isn't enough; it's the constant pursuit of good that makes us better.

Io's relationship with Ezra was wonderful to write in this chapter. One of "Rebels" themes is the ability to let go of other people so that they can mature (something that tears me up whenever I watch Ahsoka leave the Jedi in "Clone Wars") and Io has reached that step where she's ready to accept that Ezra will never love her in the way she loves him; but she's earned his respect and admiration and that has helped her transform from a petty selfish child into a young woman.

My original ending was going to have the Council let Tamar have the girls and things would wrap up happily ever after. But recently I read a particular Star Wars novel and it make me an even bigger fan of a certain canon character I've wanted to write about in depth. You will find out who this is in the next chapter when Tamar faces her own trial.

Tamar is the heart of her "Casablanca" family just as Hera is the heart of her the Ghost crew and knows what sacrifices must be taken to protect her loved ones. May the Force be with her.


	5. Alstroemeria

Symbolizing friendship and devotion, the alstroemeria's leaves grow upside down, with the leaf twisting as it grows out from the stem, so that the bottom is facing upwards – much like the twists, turns and growth of our friendships. –Teleflora website

The bold look of the alstroemeria hints at the depth of symbolism behind the petals. This tropical beauty means devotion and mutual support, between two family members or friends, friendship on a broad scale from acquaintanceship to life long buds, withstanding the trials of everyday life, and following your dreams and achieving your aspirations, both in a material and spiritual sense. -Flowermeaning website

A-A-A

_The needle punctures the surface of Tamar's skin and sends toxins flowing through her bloodstream. Tendrils of green energy bleed into her body releasing a wave of nausea. She groans as the sense of vertigo deepens while the probe droid continues to hum loudly overhead._

_"Which coordinates did the rebels use before they fled?" the interrogation officer demands._

_The room is dissolving around her into a blur of black and gray. Tamar closes her eyes, aware that she won't last long. She wasn't trained or bred to withstand torture and can only tolerate so much agony._

_"Don't know," she mumbles thickly._

_"You're too delicate with these Twi'leks. They're stronger than you presume," snaps the other interrogator. He rips off his glove and in one swipe, brings his palm down across Tamar's face. The crisp sensation of pain from his slap is almost a blessed distraction from the mind probe._

_The officer slams his hands onto the rests of Tamar's chair and proceeds to shout in her face. "You're lying, you tail-headed slut! Tell us where they are!" His hand strikes the other side of her face. A fresh pane of coldness makes her skin tingle from the reaction._

_"...fifty credits..." Tamar whispers_

_He leaned his ear towards her mouth. "What did you say?" he hisses._

_"Sold for...for seventy-five credits on Kaller," she stammers. "Net profit of fifty percent..."_

_"Feh! Now she's gone into droid mode," he says with disgust. He straightens up as a cruel smile spreads across his face. "Let's treat her like one." He gestures to his comrade, who smirks and flips a control in the wall._

_The electric shock hits Tamar's lekku and sends a high wail of pain out of her lungs. The delicate nerves in her body send signals of aggravation and confusion through Tamar. She feels as if she's swallowed a thousand shards of glass that are now scraping and tearing into every blood vessel and every muscle of her body._

_Tears of pain swell up in her eyes until the fear overwhelms her and she cries out in a panic._

"Ezra!"

_A-A-A_

"Tamar!" shouted the padawan.

His knees and palms slammed against the floor just before the door in front of him slid open. Kanan was by his side in an instant and trying to support Ezra back up. A drop of something liquid hit the floor and Ezra felt a sticky sensation trickling down his lips. He touched his face to discover a trickle of blood had seeped out of his nose.

"What is it?" asked Kanan urgently. He could sense the wild frenzied expression on Ezra's face when he answered.

"She's suffering," the padawan whispered.

A-A-A

_The misery reaches its climax too quickly and it tips Tamar over, lekku crashing back down and bringing her into merciful unconsciousness. Her eyelids snap shut and she slumps forward in the chair._

_The interrogator's expression brightens up. "Did you hear that? We have a name at last!"_

_"It may be a start but it is a valid lead," the other one agrees. "The Grand Admiral should be pleased to hear it."_

_The doors behind them parts abruptly. Both young men whirl around, straightening for attention. The gleaming white uniform of their superior officer seems to draw in whatever bit of light remains in the interrogation cell._

_They hold their breaths and wait for him to speak first. But he does not talk yet. He merely glances at the interrogators, then the Twi'lek in the chair, before returning his attention to them. When he finally parts his lips the voice is monotone and even yet it carries the warning of a calm before the storm._

_"What are you doing with this prisoner?" he asks at last. They babble their way through an explanation that is no more useful than the chirping of birds to him. They show him the data-pad but he has little interest in it. His eyes continue to avert back to the prisoner._

_"I already know this information," he remarks. "If you had contacted me before you began then you would not have wasted your time on her."_

_"Yes, well, um..." the interrogator looks embarrassed. "She's still alive and within a few hours we should be able to question her further with your approval."_

_"Gentlemen, do you know who this is?" he inquires._

_"Of course. The identification databank confirms that her name is Tamar Ily'an," answers one officer proudly._

_"I asked you if you knew who she is, not her name," the grand admiral presses on._

_The officer's brows furrow with confusion. "I, I don't follow."_

_"No, you do not. But I should not have expected you to." He gestures to her with one hand. "If you knew this woman's background and occupation then you would have realized that such a show of aggression would have been unnecessary."_

_Their faces redden from their superior's criticism. "My apologies, Grand Admiral," one blurts out._

_"Your apology is accepted, officer. You have both fulfilled your duties and therefore are dismissed." He places a hand upon his chest. "I will handle the prisoner myself."_

_One of them opened his mouth to protest but his companion shakes his head. The silent exchange between them confirms that to disobey would be unwise. They salute him and hastily departure from the room._

_When they are gone the Imperial officer takes out his comm-link. "Protocol droid CC410, I require formal preparations for my quarters immediately," he commands. "Summon the medical droid as well."_

_"Yes, sir," the droid's tinny voice came through in response._

_He approaches the torture chair and keys in two codes. The wrist bands snap open. He looks down at the unconscious figure of Tamar who looks like a broken doll with blue limbs arranged in awkward positions._

_His expression is poised as ever but in the depths of his crimson eyes, black comets flicker and flare._

_"Miss Ily'an," he murmurs softly. "It has been far too long."_

A-A-A

"But who is this 'Grand Admiral' Thrawn?" Io asked aloud. "And what makes him different from any other Imperial officer you've encountered?"

Hera filled her in with a few brief sentences while Ezra dabbed a cloth at his face. The bleeding had stopped but the block of stone in his stomach was even heavier now that he knew who had Tamar in his grasp.

The fear in Io's face had also increased when Hera finished telling her about Thrawn's relentless pursuit of the Ghost. "He sounds like my late master," she said at last. "Only ten times more clever."

"And ten times more dangerous," Hera concluded.

"So that's what he's been busy doing all this time," Hogarth muttered in the background. His remark caused several heads to turn towards him.

"You know Thrawn?" Kanan asked.

Hogarth folded his arms over his chest. "Not really. He came by the club on Iolanthe once, a couple of years ago. He was Captain Thrawn then."

"What do you remember about him?" Ezra asked.

The burly man shrugged and furrowed his brow. "He was aloof but polite enough like any other high-ranking officer we entertained. Didn't raise a ruckus at all. Thrawn took his glass of complimentary wine and sat quietly for about two hours. Then he left with the other officers."

Though Hogarth's words flitted before Kanan like drops of red ink, he could perceive Nava's silence as a shivering gray cloud behind him. The Twi'lek was attempting to suppress her fear and failing at it.

The Jedi spoke gently to soothe her. "Nava, do you also remember when Thrawn came to your club?" She nodded shakily to him. "What can you tell us about him?"

She opened her hands in a gesture of emptiness. "Like Hogarth said, he was polite but quiet the whole time," Nava said. "I performed a dance and Tamar sang a song. It ended and he was gone."

There was honesty in her words but the fear was still there, a thread glinting in the background that Kanan knew had to be brought to light.

"Is there anything else you can remember, anything at all that can help us? For Tamar's sake?"

Tamar's name must have triggered something because she whimpered faintly. Io walked over and placed her hand in Nava's as a gesture of support. It must have helped because Nava looked at the Jedi and finally spoke her mind.

"I didn't like the way he looked at Tamar," she confessed at last.

A-A-A

_Two rotations later, Iolanthe:_

Grand Admiral Thrawn entered the elegant room that overlooked one of the infamous central gardens of Iolanthe. His boots barely made sound above the thick red carpeting and his presence between two glistening mirrors created an endless army of blue-skinned Chiss reflecting within their depths. The opened door that led to another room allowed a glimpse of a bed that was partially made, confirming that its occupant been recuperating in it for most of the afternoon.

His guest must have heard the sound of him coming because there was the distinct _click_ of water being shut off and then someone had left the refresher. Within moments, the person was standing in the doorway starring at Thrawn.

Works of art are eternal and consistent. They never change, remaining in their ideal states without alteration or development. The same could not be said of Tamar Ily'an. Bathed and perfumed, she was wrapped in a flowing lavender robe that swept to the floor, allowing a glimpse of toes to peep out modestly from beneath the hem.

There were noticeable angles and points in her face, no doubt an aftermath of her painful interrogation, but they seemed to soften beneath the muted colors of the sunset.

In Thrawn's eyes she was not a painting or a masterpiece. Tamar Ily'an was something else entirely.

"My apologies for disturbing you, Miss Ily'an," he said with a slight bow. "I trust that you have recovered sufficiently?"

A glint of defiance had worked its way back into her eyes. "Apology accepted," she replied in a formal but stiff tone. "Your medical droid took excellent care of restoring me to health."

She crossed the room to a sleek dressing table and sat down before the oval-shaped mirror. Several cosmetics had been lined up for her personal use and she began to work at once, picking up a small brush and drawing a thin black line over her left eyelid in an effortless stroke.

"Yet you still sound agitated," the Chiss noted aloud.

"Being tortured is not part of my daily routine," Tamar responded sarcastically. "Nor is waking up and recuperating to find myself accepting a dinner invitation from Imperial high command."

"And yet here you are persevering in spite of obstacles," Thrawn said. "Are you certain that you are up to the task?"

Tamar shrugged her shoulders and gave a little sight of defeat. "Better to wine and dine with one's captors than be sent back into your prison."

"You misinterpret the invitation, Miss Ily'an. You are not a prisoner but our honored guest for the evening," he corrected her. "Which reminds me..."

He pushed a button on the wall and a panel drew back, revealing several brightly-colored gowns hanging up in the wardrobe. Thrawn touched his chin with his fingers and studied them for a moment. Then he drew one out with satisfaction. "Yes. This will do nicely." He held out the dress at arm's length for Tamar to inspect.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What is that?" she demanded. A hint of anger had crept back into her voice.

" _Her emotions confirm that she has not been permanently damaged,"_ Thrawn assessed the situation. " _That is fortunate. She has qualities that must be preserved and protected at all cost."_

"It is a dress for this evening. The district rules insist on formal attire," he explained.

"Not just any dress." Tamar pointed an accusing finger at the snowy fabric Thrawn displayed before her. "That's my favorite white dress. You've copied it somehow."

"To the best of the tailor droid's abilities. I'm sure the style is slightly altered from the original," Thrawn confessed. He draped it over a chair and then placed a glittering object near Tamar's wrist. She looked down to see a bracelet of red and purple gems woven through gold mesh.

"And this?"

"Insurance," he explained. "I do not think you will attempt to flee while wearing such a valuable ornament on you."

Tamar gave him a long hard look before speaking again. "Of course not. I don't keep possessions that do not belong me, Grand Admiral."

He had nothing else to say on the subject and so headed to the door. "An escort will arrive in twenty minutes to take you to our dinner party. I will be waiting for you there." Tamar caught a final look at his pristine figure before the door closed behind him.

Tamar whirled back around to face the mirror. Alone again, the harshness in her eyes was quickly replaced by a flash of fear. Something between a gasp and a sigh rose up in her throat but she swallowed it down and then dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Replacing her expression with one of confidence and poise, Tamar proceeded to dress in the white gown and clasp the bracelet around her wrist.

A-A-A

_Iolanthe, entertainment district_

Sergeant Cole's promotion had earned him the rare privilege to dine with Colonel Yularen and the young officer was eager to make a good impression. From his carefully-combed dark hair to the diligent polishing of his boots, Cole was proud of his ability to join the crowd of elite officers and diplomats who flitted around the room.

Yet his confidence was momentarily interrupted when he saw the regal figure of Grand Admiral Thrawn enter the room and the elegant woman on his arm. The Chiss and the Twi'lek were both tall and graceful with similar cerulean complexions. With the admiral in his pristine white uniform and the Twi'lek in a white gown, they were a striking and distinguished contrast to their fellow guests.

Cole could not resist leaning over and whispering to Yularen, "Who is that remarkable creature with the grand admiral?"

Yularen's brows arched up when he recognized her. "Why, it is Miss Tamar Ily'an," he declared. "She had a successful career entertaining officers several years ago but then left the planet unexpectedly. Quite the charming hostess, as I recall. How fortunate to know that she is alive and well."

"She is a nosegay of love and beauty," Cole murmured softly. Yularen smiled as his young comrade's perception of Miss Ily'an.

Cole continued to stare enraptured at the aliens as they crossed the room together, Tamar's arm threaded around Thrawn's elbow. They centered themselves on the gleaming floor and then turned to face each other. Hands maneuvered into different positions and with the slightest of movements, both of them began to perform the motions of a classic Coruscant waltz in time to the music among the other couples dancing.

Cole had heard of Thrawn's great intellect and prowess on the battlefield but now could see his superior office was equally on par with Imperial etiquette and rules of high society.

While fellow heads turned and murmurs crossed lips, Tamar continued to keep her gloved hand in Thrawn's own. She was grateful for the fabric barrier as it kept her skin from sweating against his. Nevertheless Thrawn remarked, "Your hand is trembling. Does this much attention alarm you, Miss Ily'an?"

"Not at all. I'm used to having people stare at me," she assured him.

"Then perhaps it is the presence of so many Imperial officers?"

"Perhaps," was all Tamar would say.

"The sight of one non-human among them is enough to catch attention. Two people of minority suggest an unnatural phenomenon."

He released his left hand from her waist long enough to raise his right arm up, allowing Tamar to rotate on one heel. She was spun around faster than anticipated and nearly lost her footing but Thrawn's arm secured itself back around her waist, steadying Tamar again to face him.

A ripple of applause rose up from the other guests.

"That was cutting it a bit too close, don't you think?" Tamar asked.

"You were in no risk of falling," he assured her. "It was necessary to send the message that even social outcasts such as ourselves can live up to the expectations of others."

After the dance had ended Thrawn escorted her to Yularen's table. The colonel rose and shook Tamar's hand warmly. "What a pleasure to see you again, Miss Ily'an," he announced. "We haven't hear from you in a very long time. I was beginning to think you had vanished into oblivion."

She gave him a friendly smile. "As you can see, Colonel Yularen, I am alive and well. And all the better for seeing you again."

"You flatter me," Yularen said with a chuckle. "May I introduce to you our newest addition to the fleet, Sergeant Benjamin Cole."

Cole's ears reddened but he also shook Tamar's hand and expressed his pleasure to meet her in person. She gave him a radiant greeting and then sat down in the chair that Thrawn had drawn out for her.

Within minutes the droids flitted by with menus and took their orders. Serving trays followed. Silverware clinked and beverages were poured into glasses as Tamar continued to carry herself with the civilities of a gracious guest for the next hour. All discussions of military matters were set aside and the topics addressed were ones of intergalactic travel, newest additions of art, and personal opinions on the best Core operas. Tamar asked Colonel Yularen which beaches he considered most suitable for civilian pioneers and offered recommendations of music to Sergeant Cole.

Thrawn put in an occasional word or two but was surprisingly quiet during the meal. Seating directly across the table from Tamar, he had a perfect view of her and his gaze seldom strayed from her face. Tamar found it difficult to swallow down more than a few bites of the dish set in front of her. After dinner cleared she wisely declined the glass of wine that was offered to her.

"Are you sure you won't join us?" Yularen asked. "This is a fine vintage to celebrate Sergeant Cole's victory in the Auric system."

"I hope that Sergeant Cole will excuse me if I drink to his success with something less robust," Tamar said as she looked at Cole.

"Not at all," he assured her. Tamar's fingers wrapped around her harmless glass of meiloorun juice that the droid presented to her while the gentlemen around her filled their glasses.

"To Sergeant Cole, may his career continue to be a success," Yularen declared. Tamar raised her glass and took a modest sip.

"To the Emperor, may his reign shine across the galaxy," Cole added. Tamar's lips touched the glass again but she did not drink.

When their companions had finished their wine, Thrawn rose from his chair and refilled his glass. "Gentlemen, I have my own toast to declare." It was the longest sentence he had spoken since the hour began. "And what I have to say is most certainly worth celebrating tonight."

Yularen looked at his comrade. "Oh? And what is the occasion?"

"Why, the presence of Miss Ily'an of course," he answered.

"That is certainly an occasion worth celebrating," agreed Cole.

Thrawn lifted his glass of red liquid into the air and towards the face of Tamar.

"To Miss Ily'an," he said.

"To Miss Ily'an," Yularen and Cole agreed.

Tamar was about to blush modestly and insist that such compliments were overwhelming from such fine officers when Thrawn spoke three words that sent her heart thundering fiercely within her chest.

"...to my fiancee."

A-A-A

A-A-A

_"I have sought but a kindred spirit to share it, and I have found such in thee."_

-Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott

A-A-A

A-A-A

Tamar was not the only one who was stunned by Thrawn's words. But while her internal thoughts were ones of alarm and horror, Colonel Yularen was intrigued and impressed to hear the news.

He had known Thrawn long enough to know that the Chiss was a man of careful selection and discreet mannerisms. It was true that Thrawn had never once brought up the subject of matrimony before and Yularen suspected that few women could meet with the the grand admiral's unique approval. He chose his few allies carefully but those who were fortunate to join Thrawn's circle were ensured success and triumph by following in his footsteps.

Studying the lovely Twi'lek across the table, Yularen confirmed that she was the fortunate woman who had won herself into Thrawn's graces. The grand admiral was an outstanding military officer and brilliant tactician. With his wealth, power, and influence, he could provide for her happiness in ways that few Imperial officers could only imagine. Tamar's charm and sophistication confirmed that it was an ideal match.

"You and the grand admiral will make a marvelous couple," Yularen said as he bowed over Tamar's hand. "I am confident that you will be very happy together."

"I'm sure we will," Thrawn answered for her. "If you gentlemen would kindly excuse us, it is getting late and my fiancee is exhausted from today's adventures. I bid you both goodnight." He bowed to Yularen and Cole and then exited as smoothly as he and Tamar had entered the room.

Protocol may have prevented Tamar from speaking out in the negative but Thrawn was correct in his presumption that the engagement news was a catalyst that had temporarily driven Tamar into a state of silent shock. She remained mechanical in speech and in motion until they arrived back at the apartment and then she nearly threw herself onto the liquor table.

Thrawn watched her pour out two fingers of amber whisky into a glass and then toss her head back. Tamar made a face and then then swallowed the alcohol down. Her entire body shuddered in response and her lekku quivered frantically. She quickly poured out some more whisky and gulped it down greedily. Warmth rippled through her chest and began to spread through her arms and legs.

Tamar started to prepare a third drink but Thrawn pried the bottle out of her hand and placed it back onto the table. "My future wife must not drink herself into a stupor," he ordered her.

"Your wife," Tamar finally blurted out. "Your _wife_!" After suppressing her emotions all evening they were now tumbling out in a flurry and riding on waves of rapture from the liquor burning in her throat. She staggered backwards and fell onto the sofa. The shawl she had been carrying slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor in a pool of green gossamer. She covered her mouth with her hands and began to giggle nervously.

"You're mad," she laughed at Thrawn. The Twi'lek point an accusing finger towards him.

His mouth remained straight and sharp as the tip of an iron blade. "I assure you that I am not. You, on the other hand, are alarmed and intoxicated. No doubt this sudden news has affected your ability to think rationally but-"

"-I'm not going to marry you," Tamar interrupted him. "The very idea is ridiculous."

"How so?"

"For one thing, the order that you serve is the very one that I don't even bother cursing under my breath because it would be a waste of energy."

"The order that I serve was put into motion by your Republic," Thrawn countered calmly. "Justice must be dispensed to prevent chaos from breaking out again across the galaxy. Would you prefer a second Clone War to replace the Empire?"

"The chaos is already here, Grand Admiral," Tamar said between gritted teeth. "It is here in overtaxed and underused resources, in the prohibition of free speech and open trade. It is here in the slavery that the Empire refuses to acknowledge and the smugglers and pirates who prey on the innocent."

"The decrease of individual liberties is a necessary sacrifice to preserve the greater good of the galaxy." Thrawn slowly walked around the room in a half-circle. "You said 'for one thing'. Political opinions aside, I presume you have another reason why you object to marrying me."

"I don't love you. And I'm certain that you don't love me," Tamar persisted.

"Such emotions are malleable in these troubled times," Thrawn responded nonchalantly. "Love is merely a reaction to a situation such as fear or anger. It can be channeled, deflected, or even nurtured in the proper environment."

Seeing her defensive position, he continued. "Whatever negative emotions you have towards me are your own burdens to carry. As for myself, it would be an honor to have a woman of your refinement and intellect at my side. Affections can grow from such loyalties."

Tamar rose from the couch and placed her hands on her hips. "I have no desire to cultivate affections from someone who didn't even ask permission for my hand."

"I do not require your permission in order to protect you. The Empire will have no mercy on such a willing collaborator with the Rebel Alliance," said Thrawn as he swiftly keyed in some codes on the desk.

Before Tamar could defend herself from his accusation, flutter of lights and colors rose up from the desk and materialized into several dozen holograms. Thrawn's fingers moved expertly through the air as he maneuvered the files around.

There were slightly blurred but noticeable pictures of Tamar as a lanky teenager on Ryloth, standing in a field of grass and wheat. Tamar's work license and permit from Iolanthe. Receipts from her club and payment confirmations from her cafe. Small holo-videos of Tamar walking down the street with her Twi'lek friends. Images of Tamar in a golden gown flanked by two men; a teenager in a valet's uniform and a bearded man with a visor over his eyes.

"How did you manage all of this?" she murmured in disbelief.

"One starts with the latest facts and then works backwards," Thrawn told her. "The attempted assassination on Princess Leia of Alderaan was a sudden flare of unexpected Imperial news that piqued my curiosity. The I.S.B. received credit for disrupting the Lighting Squad's threats yet I suspected other players were at hand. It was highly unlikely that such a political threat could have been prevented by one hand alone.

"The timing was no coincidence: it occurred soon after you were seen at the Haven's Glow resort alongside a playboy named Lord Joshua Rayne who oddly enough, resembled the wanted Jedi, Kanan Jarrus. It was obvious that his 'manservant' was also his apprentice, Ezra Bridger."

He pressed a button and the holograms changed. "This single affair could have been consider less severe if the court recognized that you were coerced into accompanying the rebels against your will. But tracing your career back to the 'Jewel Garden' on Iolanthe, it confirmed that you and Ezra Bridger had met before. You employed him in your club, didn't you?"

Tamar swallowed before speaking again. "At the time I purchased him off the black market. I thought he had been sold into servitude to pay for some family's losses. I had no idea he was a Jedi."

"Yet you surely suspected it somewhere down the line, didn't you?" Thrawn persisted fluidly. "Young Bridger posses rare qualities such as loyalty and empathy that affect those around him. You not only kept this information to yourself but provided food and aid to him multiple times over when he arrived at your doorstep on Kaller."

Thrawn made an adjustment on the desk computer and the holograms vanished. "There is enough information in your file to have you sentenced to death three times over," he concluded.

He watched Tamar's face distort with worry and trepidation. That response was of some satisfaction to Thrawn. Unlike other foolish beings he had encountered in his career, Tamar would not dare defy him with half-made excuses or feeble attempts to cover up her actions. Instead, she closed her eyes in defeat and honesty, acknowledging the guilty actions that she had participated in.

Thrawn's red eyes glowed with animation. "The other two options are equally severe: exile to a prison camp on an Outer Rim moon or sold directly into the service of the Hutts. I doubt your sheltered lifestyle has prepared you for such barbarity. I predict you would last three weeks in a labor camp, ten days in the Hutts' power."

He turned to the windows and gazed out at the sparkling city before him. "You know of my passion for art and history. Stories of the past are keys that unlock success for the future. In my expansive career the artifacts of others have proven useful to attaining victories."

Thrawn's head tilted back in the direction of Tamar. "But why learn something from an inanimate object when I can gain so much more from a living person?"

"Is that why you want to marry me?" Tamar asked in a more grave tone. "So that I will cease to help the rebels? Or do you plan to keep me in line and on hand as a plaything for your amusement?"

"That would be insulting to both of our reputations, Miss Ily'an. I am not some petty scoundrel who would entertain you for a short period of time and then discard you."

"Oh no, you just like to keep your pretty ornaments on display for eternity," Tamar protested. "Captain Syndulla told me how you confiscated her family kalikori. It's poor taste to use stolen family heirlooms as personal trophies."

"You continue to discredit me, Miss Ily'an. Perhaps your prejudice blinds you from seeing otherwise?" Thrawn suggested. He lightly touched his fingers to the insignia plaques below his collarbone. "Matrimony would give you the opportunity to judge me for who I truly am, not as a servant of the Empire, but as a Chiss warrior."

His offer hung in the air for a moment. Then Tamar shook her head. "Chiss or not, I could not bear to share my life with a cruel and selfish man," she concluded sadly. "To force me to do so would be executing me four times over."

The Chiss' expression altered. "You surprise me. An entrepreneur of your talent would consider this marriage proposal an opportunity to turn 'cruel and selfish' character into a chance for success and prosperity. For I have other qualities that you yet have to become aware of and in time, perhaps your opinion of me will change."

Tamar's body had grown feverish from the alcohol she had consumed and she could feel her head starting to spin out of control. She took a few breaths to maintain whatever shreds of sanity were left in her conscience. "I don't want to have anything to do with you," she said at last.

Embers glowed within Thrawn's eyes. "If you continue to defy me then I will pursue you from one end of the galaxy to the other until you consent." His threat ended on a dangerous note.

Tamar managed a weak smile. "You will be too busy fulfilling the Empire's missions to have time to chase me."

"I can be patient." His chin lowered downward. "And I look forward to the pursuit of a worthwhile goal."

"You should find another one, Grand Admiral."

"I do not desire any other."

Tamar's shoulders sagged. "So that's it then. My future comes down to two options: you or death."

"That it does," Thrawn agreed.

Silently and smoothly, the Chiss began to approach her. Tamar instinctively backed against the wall, wishing for some weapon to materialize so that she could defend herself. The hard exterior pressed against her spine, confirming her lack of options.

"But what of your family, Tamar? What of Miss Oren and your other companions?"

His words sent twin shivers from Tamar's lekku down into her spine. "What about them?"

"Would you be so cruel and selfish as to let yourself be martyred and abandon those innocent girls to the mercy of strangers? Who else could protect them if not you?" His shadow now stretched across the floor and was creeping its way up Tamar's body. "Your death would be of no aid to them."

A stab of fear sank into Tamar's chest as she thought of her friends.

"I..." Her voice was faint and hoarse as she tried to make one final movement toward the door.

But Thrawn swiftly blocked her path with a single maneuver, looming over her as the gap between them was closed. He stood dangerously close to her. Tamar nearly had to crane her neck up to look at him. She could see the distinct curve of his brows, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the firm chin and strong jawline. They were the features of one bred to command, one accustomed to giving orders and wielding power.

Thrawn gazed into her eyes and his voice was now liquid silver, mellow and haunting in her ears.

"Tamar Ily'an." He spoke her name in a soft purr. "The exile of Ryloth, the outcast of her people. The woman who wears a facade of money and materialism to hide her true feelings. For if she ever showed them to the universe then her radiance would flare up for all to see."

In a few fluid words Thrawn had stripped Tamar of her mask, bearing her essence to him. There were no words left to protest, no barbs to fend off his accusations. He had looked into her soul and targeted her weaknesses, her flaws that she had spent years covering up with smiles and wooing words.

Tamar could barely breath. She stood transfixed before him, quivering with fright.

Long tapering fingers slowly curled around her shoulders and pulled her closer still to him until she could feel his warm steady breath on her lips. The red eyes blazed like candle flames as they held her in his grasp. Her chest rose and fell, her eyes unable to tear away from his hypnotic gaze.

"I know you," the Chiss declared. "I know your song and your story, of the clone on Ryloth who broke your heart..."

" _Thorne? Thorne! What are you doing? They're not your enemies! You're a clone trooper, not a murder!"_

" _Good soldiers follow orders, Tamar. Get back inside before I blast you to pieces."_

"I know about the Star Destroyers that scratched your sky and made you curse aloud."

_"But this tax is unjust! You can't confiscate my savings without permission! The other planets in this sector-"_

_"Move along, citizen!"_

"I know about your gardens, your music boxes, and the dresses that brighten your day."

_"I'll take three dozen keshmeer scarves for this order and you'll receive twenty five percent of the profit by the end of the season. Is that satisfactory?"_

_"Oh yes, Miss Ily'an. Thank you! And may I say, quite the pleasure to do transactions with such a pretty businesswoman."_

"I know of the Twi'leks you adopted as your sisters and the young Jedi who served you."

_"Yeah, kid. I know Tamar comes across bossier than a queen. But I've worked for Tamar long enough to know she's got a big heart. Maybe she's just scared the Empire's going to suck all that kindness out of her so she keeps it locked up tighter than her safe. But it's there, I've seen it."_

"Most of all, I know of the wellspring of love and passion that you conceal deep within you."

The back of his hand brushed across her cheek in a tender touch that sent Tamar's body into frantic shivers.

"But not deep enough to escape the attentions of a warrior," Thrawn concluded.

"You're no warrior," she managed to stammer out. "You're-"

The grip on Tamar's shoulders tightened fiercely and she was pulled into a crushing embrace. Arms strong as durasteel snaked around her body, pining Tamar's arms to her waist. There was a final flash of fire in his eyes and then the Chiss' head lunged towards her.

Firm feverish lips covered Tamar's mouth, entrapping her in a kiss.

Random words flashed in the Twilek's mind like strikes of lightning as her body tingled from the electrical charge of his lips _._

_"Hot. Soft. Heart. Want. Eager. Chiss. Fight. Must. Yes. No."_

The breath in her lungs mingled with his own as the kiss deepened, pulling Tamar into a dark endless realm. Her soul was flaming white-hot, eager, and restless, all of it shining and exposed for Thrawn to explore. At last he had found the wellspring to taste and he drank deeply from it, satiating himself with the gasps that escaped Tamar's mouth between his kisses as her emotions swirled through his own.

Warriors are relentless. They fight on until victory is obtained.

Thrawn continued to hold the woman against him, bestowing kiss after kiss across Tamar's mouth as they blossomed from blushing pink tenderness to deep crimson passion. He marked her, tasted her, poured his spirit into Tamar and let the sound of his breath fill her ears until he could feel her limbs growing stronger against him.

Soon he could feel her lips pressing back against his own, kissing back nearly as fiercely as himself. Her spine curved willingly against him, the raw sensation of chemistry and magnetism humming between them. Small pinprick sensations formed on his chest when he felt Tamar's fingers curl up tightly into the jacket of his uniform as she clung hungrily to him.

At last, Thrawn drew his mouth back from Tamar. His arms loosened enough to draw the faintest bit of air between them. When he spoke again his voice was rich and resolute with authority.

"I am Mitth'raw'nuruodo and I claim you for myself," he commanded.

Tamar was beaten. She knew it and could not muster even a shred of anger to resist him, not when her body ached out to surrender, to let herself be revered and pampered by this stranger who had descended from the unknown realms of the universe. The will to resist had melted away in the heat of longing. Instead, her lips parted and she found herself struggling to say his heritage name.

"Mithrawn...Mithrawnuruodo," she murmured at last. The heavy mysterious word settled into the back of her throat.

Thrawn nodded, pleased with the sound of his voice on her lips. His thumb and index finger touched Tamar's jawline, sliding across the smooth skin to gently secure her chin in place. The ruby eyes glittered approvingly at her. "You may call me that when we are alone," he added.

"You are mine to cherish and I am yours to command," he went on, tracing her lips with his thumb. "You need but ask and I will lay the stars of the galaxy at your feet."

Tamar starred in disbelief. "What?"

"As long as you remain by my side no harm can touch you," Thrawn assured her. "You are safe at last. Not even the Emperor can take you from me."

Tamar's legs were still shaky as Thrawn set her down back upon the sofa as gently as if she was made of glass. One of her sleeves had come loose during their embrace and now he drew it back up her shoulder with respectful modesty.

"I must go make arrangements for our wedding ceremony," he explained gently. "It will take no more than three rotations time."

The Chiss lingered long enough in the doorway to admire his prize. A blossom of red had spread across her cheeks in stark contrast to her blue complexion. Her eyes were glittering as if possessed with a mad frenzy of fever, lips partially opened in a dream-like state. She was truly extraordinary.

He placed a hand upon his chest and bowed deeply to her. "Miss Ily'an, I bid you goodnight."

Thrawn vanished from the room like a phantom fading into the night.

Tamar sat still and silent for several moments. Somehow she grew aware of her surroundings and she lightly touched her lips with a hand. They still felt raw and swollen from his kisses. She could still feel the rush of heat and pleasure from the touch of his body against hers. Opposite emotions were colliding within Tamar like a storm as the reality of her new destiny unfolded before her.

What had she done? What _had_ she done!?

She fled into the other room and fell upon the silken sheets of the bed, weeping to herself.

A-A-A

_Three rotations later:_

Tamar had been a fool.

Growing up on Ryloth, she knew that her personality and skills made her stand out like an oversized tree in a field of grass. Her crazy mind's combination of business data and artistic flare made fellow Twi'leks smile and shake their heads at her. But she had confidence that her unique set of talents could create a small but snug fortress for herself while the Empire swallowed up worlds.

It _had_ worked for a while; cleverness and charm had gotten Tamar out of tight spots. She had built a business, a home, and a family to love and care for. It was more than she had ever dreamed of and she was proud of herself. But it had all been a lie from the beginning.

 _"Who did you think you were saving yourself for?_ " she scolded herself. _"Did you honestly think you were better than everyone else? That you were special somehow and that gave you the 'right' to get privileged treatments?"_

Yes, her pride had permitted Tamar to think she could do better than others. Now had to accept the fact that she was no different from any of the poor souls in the galaxy. They were all usable commodities to be devoured by the Emperor's wolves and would be ripped of their spirits before they could even raise their voices to protest.

The humbling and crushing thoughts were Tamar's discipline for three days. Well-deserved medicine for a woman who dared to strike a Jedi and slap a girl on the face. Who was Tamar Ily'an to instruct anybody else?

She not special. She was nothing.

In another life Tamar could have laughed at the irony of the situation. " _Silly girl_ ," the neighbors used to chuckle. " _She'll be so busy running a business that she won't have time to catch a husband!"_

Well, the joke was on all of them. Tamar had caught herself not only an officer but a grand admiral at that! With his outstanding career, Tamar would never have to worry about earning another credit in her life.

She starred back at the tall slim woman in the floor-length mirror. Her wedding dress was remarkably simple without a hint of lace or ruffle anywhere. But it was made out of some of the most expensive material in the Core, a shimmering silver fabric that flowed like water around Tamar's body. The scooped neckline and cap sleeves revealed her bare arms and neck while a headscarf of the same material was secured around her head and lekku. A circlet of iridescent gems had been sewn into the fabric like the hint of a tiara.

It...it wouldn't be so bad, would it? She tried to reassure herself that things would be all right and this was indefinitely better than prancing around for some filthy crime lord. But for Tamar, it was easier to brace challenges when she knew there were people counting on her. She thrived on opportunities and possibilities, always striving to excel and do more. It was good to know that Nava and Io would come to her if they ever had a problem and Tamar could assure them that she could handle it.

But alone and without friends, the motivation would have to come from within herself. Being stripped of her freedom made this even more difficult than Tamar could have anticipated.

For some reason, the one person she wished she could see right now was Ezra Bridger. There were still traces of the upstart boy in him yet after listening to him speak before the Council, Tamar realized what a fine young man he had become. She hoped Kanan Jarrus was aware of his prodigy's accomplishments because to Tamar, no senator or politician could have spoken more effectively than Ezra had. He was certainly a good Jedi and an even more extraordinary person.

What was it that the Jedi used to say all the time? Oh yes, " _May the Force be with you"_. Such little meditative remarks and quips had been brushed off by Tamar in the past. The Force had not helped her to succeed in life: hard work and her own two hands had done that.

Or had they?

Alone and exposed before the world, Tamar saw no point in holding onto her pride. Maybe the Force couldn't help her now, but it certainly couldn't hurt her to ask for its sacred guidance.

Would it be adequate if she knelt down? But the dress would get crushed. She chose to remain standing and clasped her hands together. Tamar bowed her head, closed her eyes, and concentrated on the words that she had once heard from Mace Windu years ago.

" _There is only the Force. There is only the Force."_

She let the words swirl around within her and slowly, her fractured thoughts began to steady. Tamar thought of her club and her cafe, from the ornate chairs to the simple kaff mugs, and let them all fade away into nothing. Dresses, ornaments, and plants all came from the Force and they could be broken or taken away. But the Force would remain. It could make mighty metal rust away or cause a tiny seed to sprout into a strong plant. She thought of the smallest insects that crawled across Ryloth's ground and the tallest mountains on the horizon and remembered that the Force lived in all of them.

If it was there in the warmth of a happy summer's day then it must be there in the harsh chilling night. It was not good or evil but itself, the everlasting eternal watch of the Force, that empowered both light and dark alike. It had given Tamar the strength she needed this far and if she reached out to it again, it would carry her further.

Thrawn would have Tamar's mind and body for himself. But the Force still existed. After three days of deprivation, Tamar could feel her spirit finally emerging from within herself as she lifted her gaze upwards and willingly surrendered herself to it, holding back nothing to the life-binding source of the universe.

There were no wars, fortunes, fame, or power that could stand in its way. _"There is only the Force."_

The chiming sound from the door broke Tamar's thoughts and informed her of a visitor. She sent the protocol droid to the door and then hastily smoothed down the front of her dress, preparing herself for Thrawn's inspection of his bride.

"Well, well," drawled a female voice. "Aren't you a pretty sight to see?"

Tamar was astonished to see Governor Pryce enter the room. She had never met the governor of Lothal in person before but recognized the bob of black hair and aristocratic features from the holo-net. The governor's ice-blue eyes were rimmed with dark makeup, giving her a penetrating stare.

For a moment Tamar's mind bristled with concern. She wondered if the governor had any idea that Tamar had indirectly been involved with the fiasco of the ration cards and grecknos at the Imperial Academy of Genomar. But Pryce's smirking expression confirmed that Thrawn had not disclosed the secret to her.

Tamar lifted the corners of her dress and sank into a curtsy. "Governor Pryce, I am grateful to have the privilege of meeting you in person," she said in a soft polite voice. "To what do I owe this honor?"

Pryce's eyes nearly rolled in the back of her head as she glanced around the room and then settled back on Tamar. "The honor is for the sake of the Grand Admiral," she sniffed arrogantly. "I doubt a backwater woman like you knows about Core customs but a groom traditionally does not see his bride until the ceremony."

She produced a silver casket and extended it to Tamar. "The grand admiral requests that you wear this to the wedding." Tamar carefully opened up the casket to reveal a necklace of golden pearls. She fingered them gently, well-aware of their immense value.

"Allow me," Pryce said in a too-polite voice. She lifted the pearls up and Tamar turned around so that they could be fastened around her neck. For an inkling she was worried that Pryce might attempt to strangle her with the necklace but logic assured her it wouldn't work. The pearls were too delicate to be of any harm and Tamar doubted that even the governor wouldn't dare attempt to assassinate Thrawn's bride.

Sure enough, Pryce drew the necklace around Tamar's neck and then connected the clasp behind her throat. "Aren't you precious," she declared. Her voice was a mixture of honey and acid as she suddenly clamped a hand on Tamar's shoulder and whispered fiercely into her ear, "Congratulations, my dear. You are getting _exactly_ what you deserve."

Tamar felt a gloved hand smack her on the backside. It didn't hurt but the gesture smarted, reminding Tamar that Pryce saw her as no more than a tail-headed whore slithering before her master. She remained in place and closed her eyes, praying for the patience to rise above this nasty barb.

"Actually," Tamar heard herself say in a quiet and steady voice. "I am getting more than I deserve." She opened her eyes and met Pryce's harsh glare, letting the other woman's vicious expression slid off her. Then Tamar lowered her eyes and said in a more humble tone, "I could never be so fortunate as I am today to have one of the navy's finest officers as my husband."

"You're right," agreed Pryce with a sharp little laugh. "You could never be as fortunate."

"Which is why," Tamar went on, feeling a hint of her old self creeping back. "I would be grateful if your excellency would continue to give your support and protection to the grand admiral during his missions."

This time Pryce let out a high-pitched chortle followed by a sneer. "Asking for _my_ protection for Grand Admiral Thrawn? You silly girl! You obviously don't know the list of his achievements or how remarkable of an officer he actually is."

"You're correct," the Twi'lek surrendered. "I'm afraid there's very little I understand. Your esteemed excellency knows far more about these matters than I do."

"Hmmmph!" Pryce's nose twitched at the defeat and the compliment. She would have loved to throw more insults into the face of the Twi'lek but knew that they were pressed for time and she must get the bride to her destination.

"We had best be going," Governor Pryce said at last. She gestured to the door where eight stormtroopers had materialized, ready to escort them to the ceremony.

"We wouldn't want to keep the grand admiral waiting, would we?"

"No," agreed Tamar at last. "We wouldn't."

A-A-A

The ceremony took place in an obelisk of black and white marble in the heart of Iolanthe. While dozens of stormtroopers surrounded the exterior, Tamar was grateful that the people inside numbered no more than twenty or so high-ranking officers and officials. Several potted trees against the walls offered a bit of color but the splash of foliage was nearly swallowed up by the gray tiled floor beneath their feet.

Tamar continued walking forward on the carpet, a small spray of star-shaped white flowers known as snowbreath clutched in her hands. Bright morning light shot through the glass panes overhead, catching the creases and folds of her silvery dress and the shine of the pearls around her neck. She could feel the eyes of the officers all upon her, watching every twitch of her muscles and every step that she took forward. Aside from Pryce's beady-eyed glare, most of them looked upon Tamar with astonishment and admiration.

Twin pools of water separated the aisle that Tamar was walking upon and escorted her until she reached the end of the carpet. The grand admiral was waiting for her with his hands clasped behind his back. His expression was serene as ever, his posture dignified and regal. It was impossible to know what he was thinking and if Thrawn was inwardly pleased with her presence or displeased with her countenance, he made no show of either.

He was the work of art now, the eternal unaltered soldier, the masterpiece of the Empire. And he was waiting for her to join him.

Tamar's heels clicked softly against the marble three more times and then she was at Thrawn's side. Her thumb brushed over the bouquet she was holding and she gave him the slightest glance, wondering if there would be some tiny hint of opinion as to how they would proceed. But none came. There was only protocol and duty here, no affection or intimacy.

She placed her heels together and looked at the big barrel-chested Imperial general who stood before Thrawn and Tamar at a podium. He placed his hands upon the podium and began to speak in a grave dignified voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are honored today to join these two admirable citizens in matrimony on the twenty fourth day in the Nova district of Iolanthe..."

Her pulse seemed to slow down with time. Colors flitted before Tamar: the intense bitter brown of a fresh cup of kaff, the crisp blue sky on a clear morning, the silvery shine of a drop of rain falling on her skin. They were followed by the sounds of her family: Miri's harp practicing in the morning hours, Nava's bright laughter, Hogarth's rumbling tones, and Io's careful pronunciation and rich Ryloth accent.

They wove themselves through Tamar's thoughts and she let herself linger within the memories until the sound of the general's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Do you, Grand Admiral Thrawn, loyal soldier of His Imperial Majesty's navy and protector of law and order across the galaxy, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" asked the general.

The Chiss turned his head to Tamar and he spoke in a firm clear voice. "I do."

"And do you, Tamar Ily'an, citizen of Iolanthe, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

It was Tamar's turn to look at the Chiss and his steady red eyes. She did so as the mantra entered her lungs and left her lips, flowing through her bloodstream.

_"The Force is with me. The Force is with me."_

"I do," she heard herself say in a remarkably calm voice.

Her hand was lifted up by Thrawn and Tamar felt cool metal slide across her finger. She glanced down to see a circlet of gold and green gems sparkling on her hand.

The admiral puffed his chest outward as he concluded the ceremony in a rumbling tone.

"By the almighty power of his most benevolent Majesty Emperor Palpatine, may his reign last a thousand years..."

_"I am one with the Force. I am one with the Force."_

"...and the supreme authority that keeps peace and happiness among the citizens of the Empire, I now pronounce you..."

_"I am one with the Force..."_

_"..._ man and wife."

_"And the Force is with me."_

A-A-A

A mighty winding river separated two grassy mountains off in the distance where white clouds danced across an endless blue sky. From the high-rise balcony of the lavish estate, Tamar gazed out at the scenery. The sun flitted between clouds and sent shards of light dancing across the ripples of the river.

"Naboo," she heard herself say aloud. Instantly Tamar thought of the late Senator Amidala. " _I must pay my respects to her tomb,_ " she thought.

"Do you like it?" Thrawn asked.

Tamar left the balcony and came back inside her new home. The blue and gold rug beneath her feet ran the length of the room and matched the panel paintings on the wall. There was a faint trace of fresh paint in the air confirming everything had been newly-prepared while the marbled pillars gleamed with polish. The furniture was luxurious but comfortable, outfitted with dark woods imported from other planets and inlaid with deep cream-colored cushions. Her eyes slowly took in the fresh flowers brimming in jewel-tinted vases to the gleaming chanticleer fashioned from cut prisms of glass overhead.

The words tumbled out of Tamar's mouth before she could think. "I love it," she admitted. "In some ways its even more beautiful than Iolanthe."

"The aesthetics of Naboo are distinct and seldom appreciated elsewhere," Thrawn agreed.

"Less splendor and more elegance," Tamar suggested.

"Indeed." Her husband gestured to one of the doors. He pressed a button and then a panel slid open, revealing various works of art ranging including paintings, figurines, and ancient weapons, all mounted on separate pillars. "Imperial regulations will not permit you to accompany me on my missions and I doubt that you wish to spend most of your time aboard the Chimera."

No, Tamar certainly didn't want to live the rest of her life in the belly of a metal war machine.

"That is why I have chosen these suites to be your permanent residence. While I am away on active duty, I will require a reliable and attentive person who can catalog my extensive collection."

Tamar's eyebrows went up. "And you want me to do it?"

"But of course. Who else can I trust but my own wife?" If Tamar didn't know any better, there was a bit of amusement in his voice.

Tamar found herself nodding in agreement. "Will all of your items be stored here?"

"No," said Thrawn. "For the sake of security, I have several secure locations spread across the Core and Mid-Rim. Some of the pieces must remain in storage to protect them from overexposure to light and air. But you will be given a full database on all of them and their value. I will contact you when new items have arrived or other pieces should be liquidated."

"As for your recreation," he went on. "I trust that the gardens will meet with your approval." Tamar went onto the patio and saw the small green shoots that were coming up from the fresh soil encased in white stone pots and trailed along the wide pathway. Beneath a shady arbor, fat orange and yellow fish splashed gaily in a bubbling fountain.

"I've taken the liberty of providing the foundations but the overall design and selection of plants are yours. I hope that this will be an ideal project for you to enjoy," Thrawn said. When Tamar did not respond promptly he added, "You may alter it in any way that you desire."

Tamar's fingers tingled at the thought of pressing seeds into the silky rich soil and watching them come to life. She stood perfectly still, trying to take in the reality that she was on Naboo, the jewel of the galaxy, surrounded with such beauty and harmony that it was impossible to imagine there was a war raging across the universe.

Ryloth seemed farther away than ever.

Thrawn's gaze swept over his wife as she stood before him like a crystal statue, the hem of her wedding gown tugging playfully in the late afternoon breeze.

For a moment they were both silent. Then he spoke in a tone of remarkable reverence and admiration. "You are a vision."

Tamar broke the spell and shook her head. "It's the dress," she insisted.

"No, it isn't." He drew closer to her. "It's in your eyes. There is a light in them I have never seen before. It has been worth every moment of my life to look upon you as you are now."

Color flushed through Tamar's face and she instinctively tried to look away. A palm came under her chin and guided it back to the Chiss. "No, my wife should never have to cast her eyes down in humiliation," Thrawn declared. "She should take pride in herself and carry her head high with dignity."

" _Governor Pryce doesn't think so_ ," Tamar thought to herself. When Thrawn drew his hand away she asked, "Shall I prepare us some tea?"

"Surely the serving droid can do it for you."

"Yes, but I want to do some things for myself," Tamar insisted. "I don't want to become like one of those lazy senator wives who can hardly get out of bed in the morning."

A soft sound vibrated from the back of Thrawn's throat. Could a Chiss truly laugh? If so, there was certainly something that resembled pleasure in his voice. "By all means. My wife must be kept happy and productive."

The kitchen sparkled with new appliances and it took Tamar several minutes to find a teapot, a hand-painted masterpiece sculpted from red clay. It was almost too beautiful to use and she set it on the counter as carefully as possible. Her next challenge was actually trying to settle upon a type of tea because nearly a dozen varieties were waiting for her use in the cabinets. She nearly enjoyed herself reading the labels to discover which worlds they had come from and examining the contents before settling on jysmeen, her favorite flavor.

Tamar diligently prepared the tea and then brought the tray into the recreation room where Thrawn had taken a position on the sofa. He was sitting so perfectly still, leaning back with one leg dangled leisurely over the other, that he could have been a statue taken out of his own gallery. But before Tamar could set the tea tray down on the table, he came to life as he rose from his seat and took the tray out of her hands.

"My wife had the courtesy of preparing for her husband," he explained. "Allow me the honor of serving you first."

If this was some ritual of the Unknown Regions, it was beyond Tamar's comprehension. But she watched Thrawn carefully pour out the tea and then present it to her. Their fingertips touched when she took the cup and Tamar wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to physical contact with him. She sipped from her cup in peculiar silence for several minutes.

"Something troubles you," he suggested. "What is it?"

Tamar placed her cup back down on the table carefully. "You seem to know everything about me," she confessed. "But I hardly know anything about you."

He extended an open hand to her. "You may ask me whatever you wish."

She wasn't sure where to start. No doubt he had been asked dozens of times by wide-eyed officers about the legends of the Chiss fighters and their mysterious ways that had remained hidden from the rest of the galaxy. But instead Tamar found herself asking a different question altogether.

"How did you come to serve the Empire?"

"I was living in exile on an isolated planet until my home was discovered by an investigating troop of officers," he told her. "As I was considered a new species unknown to the rest of the galaxy, I was brought before the Emperor as a gift."

"In chains?" Tamar cut in.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "No," said Thrawn. "But nevertheless, a gift to be flaunted like some remarkable wonder for the amusement of others. Rather than allow myself to be cast aside like an animal in a menagerie, I offered my services to His Majesty and was immediately drafted into the navy. My career ascended until I gained his trust and then, after earning the title of grand admiral, swore my allegiance to him."

Tamar's instinctive hatred of the Emperor had been moved aside as she listened to Thrawn's story.

"We are not so different, you and I," he concluded.

"How so?"

"Many of your Twi'lek women have also been presented as gifts to powerful people across the universe. Your wits have prevented you from sharing in their fate, I think." Thrawn carefully poured himself some tea. "By offering your services as a hostess on Iolanthe and a kaff-maker on Kaller, you managed to spare yourself the indignation and humiliation that many others have experienced."

Tamar didn't want to think about Miri, or other Twi'leks like her, and tried to steer the conversation back to Thrawn. "I take it the other officers weren't pleased to watch an outsider rise above them in the ranks," she suggested.

He lightly shrugged his shoulders. "One grows accustomed to the judgement of others. It is only natural for a person to fear something that is foreign or strange to them and treat it with hostility. The prejudices of others became a boon as I realized I could not change their minds but I could prepare myself for the upcoming anticipated conflicts of war."

"So," Tamar said carefully after a moment of thought. "You were alone."

"Not necessarily. I had a friend."

She blinked in curiosity and he nodded. "Only one?"

"How many friends does one require?" Thrawn asked her.

Tamar had no direct answer for that; her own circle of friends was small but loyal. The quality of companionship mattered far more than the quantity to her.

"And he didn't mind that you were a Chiss."

"If he did, he had the courtesy to keep that opinion to himself. But I do not think he would have been as helpful or honest as he was if he held me in disdain," the Chiss answered her.

"Our fates were bound together when he was assigned to me as a translator. He had an open and frank mannerism that was an enlightening contrast to his colleagues. But it was his loyalty that struck me from the beginning; the devotion to his duties and his selflessness to look beyond his personal wants and needs that impressed me."

Tamar suddenly thought of Ezra. "Where is this friend of yours now?" she dared to say.

The briefest pause between them made Tamar suspect that Thrawn's friend was dead, no doubt a victim of Imperial warfare. But then he spoke again and his voice was not at all sorrowful. If anything, it was content and serene.

"He is where no one else can find him."

Something about the resolution in his manners suggested that they had reached the end of this conversation. Tamar glanced at the teapot that was now empty and at the evening sky heaped with fiery orange clouds.

Thrawn rose from his seat and extended a hand to her. "Come," he offered. She placed her hand in his and then was brought to her feet. Tamar allowed herself to be led into another room, which she thought would open up into yet another gallery. Or perhaps he would reveal to her further secrets of his history?

But it was neither of these things. Instead, Tamar found herself standing in a bedchamber. It was clean and airy with white linens on the bed and a golden canopy overhead. A rug of soft white fur tickled the bottom of Tamar's bare feet. The early evening light sent rays of orange radiance across the room.

Tamar's hand went limp in Thrawn's grasp. He must have noticed it because he released her hand and then began to unbuckle his belt.

"You know what obligations follow to consummate our marriage," he said. Tamar watched him set aside his belt and then unbutton his white jacket. It was attended to with the same methodical movements that he did with everything else. The jacket slid smoothly off his shoulders. Beneath it he wore a black sleeveless shirt revealing arms hardened by years of prowess.

Tamar couldn't stop starring at him. Stars, she wasn't a prude little girl anymore. There was no need to get so riled up! But as she watched him removed his clothing, she realized that Grand Admiral Thrawn had been discarded in the other room and now Mitthrawnurodo was undressing calmly before her eyes.

He must have noticed her attentions before he stopped only for a moment to look at her. Then white teeth flashed in his mouth like a gleaming comet before he pulled the black shirt up and over his head. Tamar was looking at a body sculpted with strong graceful muscles. A powerful chest spread between broad shoulders and narrowed down to taut hips.

Out of his uniform the Chiss seemed taller, bigger, and more feral. So much less of the officer and so much more of the hunter. He was carved out of sapphire and adorned with ruby eyes and she couldn't tear her gaze away. Thrawn watched her eyes roamed over his muscled body with liveliness.

"Tell me, Tamar. Do I please you?"

She nodded instinctively.

"Are you afraid?" he asked her.

Tamar managed to swallow before speaking. "If you have read my file then you know that I have been with a man before," she reminded him.

He was persistent. "That does not answer my question."

Thrawn watched her assess him with unspoken intrigue until Tamar parted her lips again. "I would be a fool to deny my fears," she said at last. "But an even bigger fool to deny my duties as a wife."

Her answer must have pleased him because his set mouth yielded into the distinct features of a smile. "Integrity, loyalty, and bravery," he said. "I am fortunate to have a wife who possess those qualities."

He stepped behind her and Tamar felt his arm wind itself around her waist in a slow lingering caress. "As for my duties, I seek to transform them into your pleasures," he murmured into her ear.

Their eyes met again and heat bloomed within Tamar's stomach. She found her head tipping backwards until it leaned against the powerful chest, resting into the curves of his muscles. The arm around Tamar's waist loosened enough to slide down to her knees. Her sense of gravity shifted when she felt herself being lifted off the ground by the Chiss.

The warrior gathered Tamar in his arms and carried her to the bed.

A-A-A

_J'ah-men marketplace, Mid-Rim sector:_

"But I don't know anything about wedding presents," Sergeant Cole insisted into his comm-link. He didn't mean to whine like a child but he was honestly perplexed and out of his mind. "And I don't want to offend the grand admiral by giving him something distasteful by mistake."

" _Tamar is fond of jewelry. I'm sure her husband will be satisfied if you get her a nice trinket_ ," Yularen assured him through the tiny speaker. " _Just make sure it's expensive."_

"Expensive. Yes," Cole mumbled. He shoved the comm-link back into his pocket and sauntered off. He was glad he had waved off the stormtroopers from accompanying him. The last thing Cole wanted was to look like a laughing stock in front of his men. He roamed around the marketplace, nearly getting lost as he looked at dozens of items and could not decide which one would be suitable for the Lady Ily'an.

Cole was frowning at a pair of earrings, as if they could produce a sufficient answer, when he heard a girl's voice cry out from the alleyway.

"No!" she shrieked. "Let me go!"

He drew out his blaster and advanced towards the alleyway. "Who's there?" he demanded. "Show yourself!"

The shadows gave way enough for him to see a young Twi'lek being shaken by a figure in an orange helmet. The electronic speaker fastened to his chest-plate made his voice come out in a vicious snarl. "Come over here, you little brat!" he barked. "You'll fetch a nice price for Zora."

"Let me go, you filthy pirate!" she cried out. The girl tried to kick him in the shins. "Please, somebody help me!"

Cole raised his blaster in the air. "Get away from her!" he shouted. The pirate in the orange helmet jerked his head up to see Cole aiming for his head. "I'm warning you," Cole growled.

The pirate didn't have to be told twice. He shoved the girl back to the ground and raced off. Cole chased him further into the alleyway until he hit a dead end and had to skid to a halt. The Imperial officer frowned and scratched his head, looking from side to side. Where could the criminal have gone to? Well, at least he was gone. Good riddance to the scum of the galaxy.

He tucked his blaster back into belt and then went back to the Twi'lek. Cole bent over her and feeling chivalrous, offered her a hand. "Are you all right?" he asked her. She got to her feet and quickly dusted herself off. Cole assessed her features and smooth rich purple skin.

 _"Not as beautiful as the grand admiral's wife but certainly pretty_ ," he thought. But then he shut that thought down. Thrawn would have his head on a pike if anyone would intervene with his marriage.

The girl was certainly was charming with large lavender eyes that glistened at Cole with admiration. The look of terror on her face had vanished and now she sighed with relief. "Oh, thank you! Thank you ever so much," she sighed deeply. The Twi'lek clasped her hands together and leaned towards Cole. "How can I thank you?" she asked.

A delicious trace of perfume brushed beneath Cole's nose. He found himself stammering in her face. "N-no trouble at all," he assured her. "An Imperial officer is glad to help a lady out."

"And I'm glad to have such a handsome and dashing man come to my rescue," she smiled at him. Fervor and pleasure caused his toes to curl up in his boots and he found himself smiling back at her, instinctively leaning towards her.

"I'm sure there is something I can do to repay your kindness," said the girl. Before he could open his mouth she added, "I know! I'll buy you a drink."

"That won't be necessary," he assured her. But she had already wrapped her arms around his own and pulled it towards her chest. Cole was aware that his arm was nestled quite closely to her breasts and his mind was helplessly closed into the irresistible girl clinging to him.

"Are you sure?" she asked as she batted her long dark eyelashes at him. "Surely an officer such as you can afford a few minutes to celebrate his victory."

"I...I suppose," he finally heard himself say weakly. "Just a few minutes..."

She let out a little purr that nearly melted his spine and then rested her cheek against his arm. "Come," she urged him. "I know where to get a fine drink."

One final flicker of her eyelashes was all that was needed to get Cole to walk along beside her. As he continued to ogle the enchanting girl beside him, she glanced once at the skyline overhead.

Ezra removed his helmet and watched Io walk off with the sergeant.

A-A-A

Author's notes:

Lars Mikkelson's take on the brilliant cold and calculating Thrawn was entertaining to watch in "Rebels". But then I got the audiobook of "Thrawn" and Marc Thompson's version of Thrawn knocked it out of the park for me. (Sixteen hours of eloquent Chiss talking into your speakers will do that for you!) Thompson's version of Thrawn is still analytical and clever but as he's still climbing up in his career, Thrawn came across as more cerebral and less sinister than his animated counterpart. We don't know what Thrawn is feeling but we definitely know what he's thinking. In the novel he actually attempts to minimize casualties but by the time he shows up in "Rebels", it made sense to me that Thrawn had made choices that hardened and honed him into the ideal soldier for the Imperial navy so I drew upon both versions of his character for this chapter.

While writing this chapter I was also thinking, "Damnit, this is Star Wars! More lightsaber fights and Mandalorain blasters, not bodice-ripping harlequin romance!" But if there was ever anyone who could be more than a match for Tamar, it would be Thrawn. From the beginning of "Casablanca" I wanted there to be more to Tamar than a purse-clutching businesswoman and Thrawn succeeded in stripping away her facade away. There's a lot of fun in writing two arrogant characters where one proposes marriage and the other says, "But you're a jerk!" (e.g. Pride and Prejuice) and creating chemistry between them (that inspires a cold shower afterwards). It's also entertaining to flesh out a story with canon characters like Governor Pryce and Eli Vanto.


	6. Violet

"The violet is a flower that people really know by the scent that it carries. For a floral meaning, the violet is a flower that represents modesty." -Canadian Flower Delivery website

"The violet flower symbolism means that someone delights in your charms, you are worthy of praise and affection. It is also a symbol of the most potent chemistry between lovers. Violet flowers are attuned to the crown and sacral chakras." -Universe of Symbolism website

"In history, [the colors] violet and purple have both been associated with royalty and majesty." -Wikipedia

_"A violet by a mossy stone_

_Half hidden from the eye!_

_Fair as a star, when only one_

_Is shining in the sky"_

-William Wordsworth, "She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways"

A-A-A

Rumors of a new resident on the exclusive river estate were finally confirmed when Allison Gray and her two-year-old son Griggs paid a social visit to the wife of the Grand Admiral.

For all of her high class and breeding, Allison was a shy girl at her core. Her husband, a dashing twenty-five year old captain, was off-world most of the season. Between his shore leave, Allison preferred to spend time with their son rather than leave Griggs with a nanny droid and attend tedious parties and concerts by herself. Her reserved nature was overcome with curiosity because all Allison knew through gossip was that Twi'lek women were either coarse or  _ahem_  promiscuous, as verified by the few holo-visions she had seen of slave dancers prancing about.

Much to Allison's astonishment, and later her relief, the Lady Ily'an was neither of those things. On the contrary, the Twi'lek was an elegant yet warm hostess who thanked Allison for visiting her and offered that she bring Griggs so they could work on the garden together. Now both ladies were dressed in work clothes while Griggs stuck his hands into every patch of dirt possible.

"Oh no no love," Allison protested. Her son had just ripped up two yellow bulbs and proudly showed them to his mother. She looked exasperated at Lady Ily'an, who assured Allison that they could easily be put back into the ground.

"Puta deah!" he insisted. The chubby toddler grabbing a fistful of dirt and scattering it across the ground. He beamed at his mother proudly while Allison sighed in defeat.

"Thank you, dear." Lady Ily'an pointed to a patch of weeds with her trowel. "Could you be a big boy and pull those out for me?"

"Putta out! Big boy!" he exclaimed. Griggs toddled over to the weed patch and began yanking out the weeds. Once he was blissfully preoccupied, Allison was able to focus on listening to Lady Ily'an's instructions about the bulbs.

"These are a hearty breed and with the spring rains coming, you shouldn't have to water them more than once week," she explained. "But it's good to enrich them with gora-melch, which you can order from any mainstream chemical company. Spray it on at the first of the month and the bulbs will be more resilient against bugs and infections."

"Gora-melch," Allison repeated and nodded. "Thank you for your advice and sharing your time with us, Lady Ily'an. I hope it isn't too much trouble."

"Not at all," she assured Allison. "And you can call me Tamar. I think we're past the formalities."

"Tamar," Allison repeated. She smiled with gratitude at her new friend. "You have a lovely name."

They dug holes and planted bulbs together in silence for several minutes while Tamar reflected on her new life.

It had been a month since their wedding night and more than weeks since Thrawn had departed Naboo. In his absence, Tamar refused to succumb to despair or loneliness and had thrown herself headfirst into her duties. Nearly every morning she walked to the tomb of Senator Amidala to replenish the candles and replace fading flowers with fresh ones. The Imperial governor thought it old-fashioned how devoted the locals were to their late representative but permitted them to continue paying their respects as long as the tomb was kept clean and prevented from becoming an extravagant shrine of worship.

By the time Tamar got back to her estate the sun was high in the sky and there were parcels and boxes at her door to be opened. She spent several hours in diligent research identifying the artwork, talismans, pots, and weapons and then sent transmissions to Thrawn. He would respond back promptly with specific instructions how to manage them. Some afternoons were spent over cups of kaff or tea, usually between antique collectors and archeologists who could answer questions for her or offer recommendations to suit her husband's needs. Others were spent in the garden where Tamar assessed the existing plants, cleared weeds, and rearranged flowers to her liking.

Not all of the deliveries that arrived on their doorstep were intended for Thrawn. His wife was unprepared for the abundant gifts that he lavished upon her in his absence. Dresses and frocks of the latest Core fashions quickly filled her wardrobe. Cosmetics and sweet-scented oils for her baths followed next. There were embroidered shoes, silken headscarves of every color possible, delicate nightgowns, and necklaces of shimmering gems that came from the deepest mines and oceans of the universe.

His gifts were expensive but tasteful, luxurious yet subtle. Tamar grew increasingly uncomfortable whenever a courier arrived at the door to hand-deliver a package of perfume or a jeweled bangle. She had tried tactfully to tell him that so many valuable purchases weren't necessary. Thrawn insisted gently but firmly that her new status as Lady Ily'an meant raising her standards. She was now the wife of a grand admiral and must not be satisfied with mediocrity.

Kneeling on the ground with her hands in the sweet fragrance of earth, Tamar was more than happy to be mediocre in a pair of smudged work clothes and her simplest headscarf. She could feel sweat start to bead her forehead and underarms but welcomed the exertion. She drew in a fresh breath of the clear afternoon air and felt her shoulders square back.

"What's it like being married to him?" Allison whispered. Tamar was momentarily startled by the question.

She was now aware of his philosophy that knowledge was power and had experienced the full scope of it in their bedroom. It was thankfully secure and private, which Tamar hoped could hide her sins from the rest of the universe. But Thrawn must have studied Twi'lek anatomy because his hands were surprisingly gentle yet precise as they moved over and around her limbs. He knew how to use the lightest yet most precise touches to draw the fire out of her. Tamar had surrendered eagerly to the euphoria with a frenzy that startled her.

When it was over an exhausted Tamar dropped her head against his chest and felt the palm of his hand smooth down her back. She barely remembered what words they had exchanged but she did recall the hazy sensation of waking up beside him in a tangle of limbs and sheets, almost wishing she could confess that she had enjoyed it far more than she anticipated and willing herself to shove the guilt as far inside her as possible.

A flicker of light bounced off one of the windowpanes and drew Tamar back to the present. "The grand admiral is man of many duties," she said tactfully. "He's a responsible officer and as such expects a stable and orderly household in his absence. But my husband is also very generous," she added, gesturing to the expansive grounds around them.

After half an hour, the empty blue sky began to fill with heaps of white clouds and and a large purple one that was swelling rapidly. Tamar peered up at the cloud and said, "Looks like we'll be getting some rain this afternoon. I think you and Griggs should hurry home before you get caught in a storm."

Allison thanked Tamar again and suggested they have lunch together another time. Griggs waved goodbye to the pretty blue-skinned lady from his mother's arms too. After they had left, Tamar rolled up her sleeves and doubled her efforts, determined to finish the bulbs before the rain arrived. She had taken off her shoes to let her toes wiggle freely and even with the clouds now all turning from white to gray, she was enjoying herself immensely. The soil continued to sift smoothly through her fingers while the air grew warm and humid against her skin.

She was so engrossed in her work that she didn't register Thrawn's presence, or that of his colleague, even when they approached the doorway.

"Tamar," he called to her. She saw her husband in his military uniform, as well as the serious and sophisticated Imperial at his side, and hastily got to her feet.

Tamar's stomach contracted at the awkwardness of the moment. Her headscarf was crooked, her bare feet were dusty, and dirt was smeared across her work pants and stuck under her fingernails. Lady Ily'an was in no decent condition to greet her husband or his guest.

She anticipated a frown or a glint of anger in his red eyes. But he extended a hand, beckoning for Tamar to come closer. What else could she do but obey him? Tamar walked towards him while reaching up with one hand to secure her headscarf back in place. She was unsure how to greet him or if it was appropriate to make physical contact but Thrawn took the initiative of clasping his hands to her shoulders and letting his lips lightly touch her forehead.

When he released her, Thrawn gestured to his guest. "May I introduce his excellency Grand Moff Tarkin."

The pale shrewd-looking man nodded his head towards Tamar. She managed a half-curtsy and tried to look as dignified as possible. "Grand Moff," she murmured. "An honor."

Tarkin said nothing. His hawkish gray eyes swept over Tamar as if she was an officer awaiting his inspection. Then the muscles in his face drew back into a gaunt smile.

"So this is your wife," he declared at last to Thrawn. "She is very beautiful. You are to be congratulated on your good fortunes, Thrawn."

Tamar managed a small smile of her own. "My most humble apologies for my casual attire, your excellency," she said quickly. "A friend and I were working on the garden all afternoon. Had I known my husband was arriving ahead of schedule I would have properly-"

Tarkin raised a hand in the air to cut her off. "No need to apologize, my dear. The fleet was impeccable in bringing us here before the anticipated time. As for your decor," he added with wry amusement. "I've yet to see a brighter pair of eyes in such a lovely face."

He nodded back to Thrawn. "I can see why you chose a residence here. The fresh air of Naboo agrees with your wife." Thrawn responded with the slightest of nods from the Moff's compliment.

Tamar's muscles relaxed. "I'll just go inside and freshen up. May I prepare you gentlemen something to drink?"

"Yes, thank you," Thrawn said. "Did you receive the shipment of curi tea?"

"I did indeed. I'll have some ready in just a few minutes."

Tarkin watched the grand admiral's wife gather up her gardening tools and go into the house. When they were alone he turned back to Thrawn. "Charming young lady," he said at last. "But is it wise to allow her so much freedom while you are not here? I didn't see a single stormtrooper guarding the house."

"Tamar knows that there are cameras all over the estate," answered Thrawn. "Should a potential risk arise, alarms will notify security guards across this district who can be here within seconds."

"I was referring to risks of getting  _out_  of the house," Tarkin insisted. "The wives of high-ranking officers are renowned for charming their husbands' out of their pockets and then fleeing to other worlds."

Tarkin watched the muscles in his comrade's throat contract. "Tamar is not like that."

"Not yet anyway," Tarkin said with a glint in his eyes. "I still think that you should not permit her so much time unsupervised. She may grow lax or ungrateful in her new lifestyle."

The Chiss gave him a calm unblinking stare. "Tamar will not run from me," he said at last.

"How can you be so sure?" asked Tarkin.

"Because," Thrawn told him. "She knows that I will find her."

This comment was sufficient for Tarkin, who knew of the Chiss' relentless pursuits. If his wife dared to flee, there was nowhere in the galaxy she could hide from Thrawn's eyes. Yes, perhaps she was smart enough to know that such a venture would be a futile one from the start. Better she remain where she was as his exquisite counterpart.

"Hmmm." The Moff touched his chin in thought. "I still advise you to exercise caution with your wife. Spouses are like subordinates. You should treat her with the same scrutiny as any inferior officer, only love her more and trust her less."

"I will take your advice into consideration, Grand Moff Tarkin."

Tamar soon appeared in the doorway holding glasses of lightly-sweetened tea on a silver tray. She had showered and now carried a sweet citrus aroma wherever she moved. She was attired in a pantsuit of pale green satin and wore a new headscarf of gold brocade.

To Tarkin, it was not difficult to see why the grand admiral had chosen such a woman. He hoped that she would remain humble and grateful, aware that her social status as an Outer Rim exile had only been lifted up by the good graces of the Emperor and his Chiss soldier.

Tarkin accepted the drink, toasted to the good health of the man and lady of the house, and departed from Naboo.

A-A-A

The rain finally came in silver sheets that flowed off the rooftops of Naboo's houses and into the river. Tamar thought the dining room a gloomy place to eat on such a wet evening and instead told the serving droid to bring a fresh tray of appetizers to the lounge. She found an excellent vintage wine in the cellar and carried it back to where her husband was now seated upon the cushions.

A freshly-made fire crackled and snapped hungrily in the fireplace, throwing orange flares across Thrawn's face. Now off duty, he had changed out of his uniform and into creased black trousers and a black tunic shirt. The v-neck cut ran down his throat to reveal a glimpse of pale blue skin that glowed stark against the dark fabric. He was examining several holograms that hovered above the small table at his knee. His lips were moving but no sound came out as he enlarged one photo and then brushed two aside.

She spoke his name softly. When he did not respond Tamar asked louder, "Husband?"

His eyes averted and then his head turned, blinking twice as if he had awoken from a trance. "Forgive me," he said. "I was engrossed in my research."

"You certainly were," she agreed. Tamar set down the tray and poured him a glass of wine. "What are you looking at?"

Thrawn accepted the wineglass and gestured for her to sit next to him. Then he began to describe the styles of architecture in the holograms. "Notice the wide bases of the pillars and the diamond-shaped patterns," explained Thrawn. "That is the distinct Neo-Classic design that lasted nearly two centuries in the Republic."

"I've seen this pattern before," Tamar said as she helped herself to an appetizer. "But only on bowls and in tapestries."

"Those are mimics of the originals. The artisans deliberately painted hidden signatures on the pillars since they were not allowed to carve their names into the stone."

Intrigued, she nibbled on the flatbread. "So the diamond markings are their way of branding their work?"

"Yes," he confirmed. Thrawn brought the glass of wine to his lips and sipped it thoughtfully. "Onto other matters, I noticed that your jewel case was missing the pendant I sent you two weeks ago. Was it stolen?"

He watched Tamar put down her food. "No," she said lightly. "It just wasn't my taste."

"Really?" His brows lifted up just enough to express curiosity in her answer. "As I recall you admired the exquisite craftsmanship of Brau amulets."

"But not one that belonged to the wife of the Prime Minister of Brau," Tamar confessed at last. "I've seen her wear it many times on the holonet before and can conclude that it has sentimental value. So I sent it back to her."

Thrawn said nothing. The unbearable silence caused Tamar to flinch. "I'm sorry," she added. "I did not intend to slight your generosity."

"By returning a gift that I myself selected for you?" inquired Thrawn.

"I appreciate all of your gifts," protested Tamar. "But not ones that were confiscated from their owners."

Thrawn set his glass aside and then leaned back, draping his arms across the back of the couch. He looked like a regal prince of midnight darkness and mystery to her. "I assure you that there was no loss on behalf of the prime minister's wife. She was quite cooperative in forfeiting her amulet and I made certain that she received a generous payment as compensation."

Tamar's lips compressed for a moment. "It doesn't matter that you paid her. What matters is that she was coerced into giving up a cherished item. I told you before that I don't keep other people's possessions."

"Then I must be more cautious in the future." His voice ended on a sharp note. "I will not waste time or effort procuring items for my wife if she will refuse them."

"And I'd rather wear nothing than another woman's jewels."

Kriff, had she just muttered that under her breath? She must have because Tamar's cheeks singed with flames from the foolish retort. She took a generous swallow of wine from her glass. Then Tamar folded her hands in her lap and braced herself for his rebuke.

Instead, Thrawn rested his head against his palm in a gesture of casualness. The upward curve of his mouth could only be a thinly-veiled smirk at her careless words.

"As your husband I implore you not to be so rash as to choose the former," Thrawn said almost tenderly. "I would be distressed to find you running about the streets undressed."

"I was speaking metaphorically," Tamar explained quickly. "I didn't really mean it."

"Didn't you?" he asked serenely.

Stars, the man was infuriating! Tamar made herself mentally count to five before she could unlatch her tongue and say something worse.

"The fact remains that you returned the pendant to Brau." Thrawn touched his chin in thought. "I know this because the Prime Minister was far more receptive of the Imperial troops when I made my last inspection. It seems that his wife was inspired by your action."

"The citizens of Brau now have more respect for our authority," he added. "Local representatives are cooperating with the Imperial governor and I myself received commendation for the smooth transition of power."

He gestured to Tamar. "It seems that the only person who has not benefited from Brau's Imperial alliance is yourself."

Tamar was silently relieved that her actions had smoothed any further conflict. "The commendation is sufficient reward for the both of us," she assured him. "And I already have plenty of jewelry."

"But how am I to honor my wife if I cannot continue to adorn her with beautiful objects?" he inquired.

Before Tamar could answer, he leaned towards her and took her hands into his own, turning the palms over so they faced upwards. Thrawn cupped her hands gently within his own and then with the lightest brush of his fingertips, stroked the delicate skin inside her wrists in small circular motions.

She probably should have pulled her hands away but  _ooh_ , that soft brush of skin felt too good not to moan aloud. She bit her lower lip as the strangled sound of pleasure was caught in the back of her throat. Thrawn continue to trace spirals upon her skin, the feather-light touch teasing Tamar's senses as delicious shivers ran down her arms.

"No more gems for your neck and ears," Thrawn lamented. "No more lovely baubles or precious stones for such delicate hands." He drew Tamar's hand upwards and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, causing her pulse to dance madly. "That is not protocol, Tamar. We must amend this deficit."

Her lungs strained for air. "Some say," Tamar heard herself speaking breathlessly. "That effort spent on positive experiences is just as good as that spent on objects."

"Experiences, you say?" His eyes glowed with warm curiosity. "Then we must put that theory to the test."

A-A-A

"A warrior may forget that even the task of identifying the enemy can be difficult. And the cost of that failure can lead to catastrophe." -Thrawn, Timothy Zahn

A-A-A

_The thin cold air stabbed Tamar's cheeks. She blinked and tried to see through the darkness. When she spoke, her voice echoed across the vast chamber._

_"Who are you?" she called out. "Why did you bring me here?"_

_The figure before her materialized into a small hooded man. A thousand wrinkles and folds spread across his face yet it was not weak with age; it radiated power and confidence. His eyes were yellow and gleamed like light off polished glass. When he spoke it was in a low gravelly tone._

_"My servant Mitth'rawu'nruodo brought you to me. As for who I am..." His lips twisted into a cunning cruel smile. "You know that already."_

_Tamar was too terrified to move. The slightest twitch or wrong gesture could sentence her to death. And yet the accusation poured out between her lips before she could stop herself. "Why did you invade Ryloth? Why are you burning Lothal?" she demanded._

_"I do not require an explanation to my subjects. It is you who must answer to_  me _." The Emperor lifted a hand and pointed a gnarled finger at her. The wrinkles in his face distorted further._

_"You, daughter of Ryloth," he said at last. "You have befriended the Jedi."_

_She could not do anything but speak the truth in his face. "Yes, your majesty."_

_"Why have you committed treason against your Emperor?" he demanded. The steady gaze in his eyes now flickered with impatience. When Tamar was unable to answer, his voice rose up with wrath and power._

_"The Jedi are enemies of my Empire." The Emperor's tone crackled around her. "That makes you_   _an enemy of my Empire."_

_Lighting flashed from his fingers and he thrust his arms forward. The trails of blue and yellow energy slashed through air just before Tamar felt her body being ripped apart._

A-A-A

Thrawn was awake even before Tamar could shake herself out of the nightmare. He could smell the sweat skimming across her skin and hear the moans as she shuffled beneath the sheets. Then her body snapped up as if hit with an electric shock, followed by a startled gasp.

"Wife?"

He stretched out a hand to her side of the bed but Tamar had already crawled off the mattress and into the bathroom. The sheets were clammy from her soaked skin. Thrawn got out of bed and turned on the lights.

Tamar was hunched over the marbled stand in the bathroom with her hands pressed to her face. She could feel the delicate nightdress clinging to her body with icy-slick sweat. Tamar scrambled with the buttons to get it open and finally managed to peel the damp garment off her body.

She looked up to see her husband lingering in the doorway. Behind him, the house droid was already changing the bed sheets.

Thrawn's expression was monotone as ever even as he surveyed his wife, standing before him without any clothes on her shaking form and her face distorted in pain and confusion. He handed her a dressing gown. "Refresh yourself. I will prepare something for you to drink."

Tamar quickly stepped beneath the taps where a cloudburst of steaming hot water poured down upon her, scouring the salt off her limbs and gradually warming her chilled body. When the air was thick with steam and Tamar's skin almost burned with contact, she stepped out and dried herself off.

She lightly dusted her arms and legs with a fragrant powder, hoping to drive off the stench of fear from coming back. Then Tamar put on the dressing gown and came out to where Thrawn was seated at the wide sofa in their bedroom. He helped her sit down and then pressed a cup of something steaming into her hands.

"Thank you," murmured Tamar. She took a small sip and immediately frowned. The hot chocolate was thick and creamy but it was not what Tamar craved at the moment. What she wanted was mild tea for her stomach.

"It will steady your nerves," he explained. Thran leaned closer and rested his elbows upon his knees. "Now tell me of your troubles so that I may help you."

"You can't," Tamar muttered.

"Why not?"

She starred at him as rage and fear mingled with the aftermath of her horrible dream. "I dreamed that your master struck me down," she said at last.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"Yes. He said that I was a servant of his Empire and must answer to him." Tamar managed to drink a little more chocolate. "Then he called me an enemy for allying with the Jedi."

Thrawn was quiet for several moments. He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his fingertips together. Then he said, "The Emperor wields his control carefully. He does not want to see loose ends anywhere in his domains."

"Why must you serve him?" questioned Tamar. "Because he has knowledge that you desire?"

"Knowledge that I require," he explained. "And because the Emperor sits on the throne of authority in the universe."

"And what if he wasn't the source of all control? What would you do then?"

"I will serve whoever is next," Thrawn told her.

"Really?" This was new to Tamar. "But you told me that you swore allegiance to him."

"I did," he confirmed. "But that does not meant I indefinitely dedicate myself to a single cause. The Emperor is extremely cunning and perceptive. But he is also a man. One day his time will pass and then another will take his place...and I will remain standing by waiting for orders. Even monarchs do not live forever."

"Or Chiss warriors," Tamar shot at him.

"Or charming Twi'leks," he concluded.

Tamar cupped the mug to her face. "You have thought this through, haven't you?" she asked Thrawn. "But what if the Rebel Alliance manages to remove the Emperor from power? Would you serve the Republic?"

"It is an alternative situation that I have considered," Thrawn told her. "However the odds of such an outcome are minuscule. I place my odds in the most likely of outcomes which, in this case, is the long reign of Emperor Palpatine. The Rebel Alliance is certainly a persistent threat and I commend them for adapting to survive. But they do not have the cohesion, firepower, or leadership to bring about a permanent victory."

"But the Jedi..."

She watched his eyes flicker with interest. "Ten thousand Jedi could not stop the Empire from rising up. What makes you think the Rebel Alliance can bring it down?"

Tamar felt even more depressed from his words. Her limbs went slack with defeat.

"After all, it was the Guardian who led me to those conclusions-"

"What Guardian?" Tamar interrupted him.

Thrawn did not seem to mind her cutting in because he explained. "Several months ago I interrogated a Guardian of the Whills. She told me of an ancient Jedi prophecy that predicted one remarkable individual, a 'Chose One', who would bring balance to their 'Force' philosophy and establish peace throughout the galaxy."

Tamar blinked to gain focus, pushing aside her sudden exhaustion to hear this discovery. "Who or what was this 'Chosen One' supposed to be?"

"She did not know."

"So much for omens," Tamar said glumly. "Getting all your hopes up on one person. Just as bad as investing all your funds into one opportunity." Her comment would have been entertaining at any other time but it was the only allegory she could think of and Thrawn understood its significance.

"I agree. Such delusions of false optimism are dangerous. Yet I am not yet done investigating this line of thought."

"What do you mean?"

Thrawn pressed his fingertips together. "Without sufficient data to support it, there are several options to interpret the Jedi prophecy. Perhaps it is completely false and no savior exists. Or perhaps this 'Chosen One' did exist but was executed during Order 66. Another option is that he or she could be hiding in plain sight or is so far hidden within the galaxy that they cannot be found. Or..."

"Or?"

"Or the prophecy has not yet been fulfilled. If so, it would explain the Emperor's vigilance to make certain that no Jedi can be allowed to live."

He looked into Tamar's face, the red eyes set into a laser-straight stare. "Could Ezra Bridger be the Chosen One?"

Tamar's spine straightened in astonishment. "W-what?" she stuttered.

"You have heard my question. I am curious to know your answer."

"I'm no Jedi," Tamar protested. "I don't know anything about their myths or prophecies."

"Then your opinion as an outsider lends weight to the riddle. Did the Jedi misinterpret their own words or does Bridger possess the power to undo the Emperor's reign?"

Tamar starred in bewilderment at her husband and then down into her cup, as if the sweet drink could provide her with sufficient words. Asking her to confirm a Force-driven theory was as impossible as asking Tamar to select hyperspace routes. It was a topic that she knew nothing about.

But she had come to recognize the subtle expressions in Thrawn's face to know that he would not relent until she spoke her mind. Tamar closed her eyes for a careful moment on contemplation, suddenly feeling more relaxed as the warmth of the chocolate worked its magic upon her.

The facts as they were, she had absolutely no idea if the young Jedi could or could not be the key to this omen. But trusting her instincts, she thought of Ezra Bridger and the way his face lit up when he heard good news or witnessed the happiness of others. He didn't come into people's lives to fix their problems but he emulated such admirable qualities that others were inspired and motivated by him to do better.

His skills were not yet on par with his master, that much Ezra had admitted to Tamar whenever he strove to follow in Kanan's footsteps. He certainly did not have the length and depth of Master Mace Windu's talents either. Perhaps he didn't have the tremendous power to destroy the Empire but to Tamar, he certainly had tremendous qualities. There was a wellspring of compassion and courage that Kanan Jarrus had nurtured within his apprentice and Tamar wondered if Ezra had even tapped into one tenth of his gifts yet.

Tamar opened her eyes and looked at her husband. "I am sure that he could be," she said at last. "But I pray that he isn't."

"Why not?"

"Because..." She hesitated to find the right words. "To have such a heavy responsibility as a prophecy thrust upon you, especially one that would demand a person to commit to the fate of the entire galaxy, would no doubt come at a high price. One that I wouldn't want Ezra to suffer for. But if it didn't cost him his life then it may demand sacrifices from those close to him. He would be even more pained to know others would suffer for his sake."

Thrawn leaned back in his chair and touched his chin with his thumb and index finger. "Intriguing," he said at last. "Most enlightening."

The grip on the mug loosened as Tamar rubbed her forehead. "This is very strong. Are you sure there's just chocolate in here?"

"And a sedative."

Ah, that would explain why her brain was getting foggy. Tamar blinked to clear her head but it was already nodding forward with heaviness. Thrawn removed the cup from her hand before she could spill the contents all over the floor. Tamar attempted to get up but instead wobbled and landed on her knees.

When she tried to speak her work slurred together. "That's cheating."

"That is strategy."

She didn't make it to the bed and fell onto the thick fur carpet instead. It was deliciously soft beneath Tamar's body and she sighed in relief, unwilling to move an inch further. Even as heaviness encompassed her limbs she could feel her head being propped up with a pillow. A blanket was tucked around her body. Then she heard the even deep breathing over her shoulder as Thrawn stretched himself out next to her. Tamar felt her husband's arms coil around her torso, pulling her against his chest until their bodies were cupped against each other.

"When you fall back asleep you must think of me," his voice lingered in the air. "Then I will be in your dreams to drive away your fears."

Somewhere in the thickness of her mind, she could hear him murmuring something in an unfamiliar accent. A poem? An incantation?

" _In the eye of the storm all is quiet at last,"_

_The rains and thunder wrap walls around the one_

_The one calls out and rides the waves_

_Oceans apart yet nevermore, forevermore…."_

His deep voice lulled Tamar into a dreamless sleep.

A-A-A

_Rebellion Base on Mishak_

Officer Kallus, formerly Agent Kallus of the I.S.B. and Fulcrum defector to the Rebel Alliance, leaned over the monitor. He didn't want to intrude on Kanan's space but he was intrigued to find answers.

"How's the search?" he asked the Jedi.

Kanan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Not good," he said. His chair swiveled to face Kallus. The defector never ceased to be amazed with the Jedi's skills. Even blind, Kanan turned his head directly to the person speaking to him as easy as making eye contact.

"All we've gotten is dead ends. Thrawn keeps feeding us information that sends Io and Nava into high hopes until they go crashing down." The Jedi's head tilted slightly down in defeat.

"He's covering his tracks," Kallus told him. "Thrawn is also using psychological warfare to wear all of you down."

"And I'm afraid it's working," the Jedi lamented. "I'm also worried about how desperate Ezra is to find Tamar. As a Jedi it can be tempting to use your powers to extract information from other people but resorting to such dark methods can be dangerous."

"For the Jedi or other people?"

"Both."

"Hmmm." Kallus rubbed his jawline. "What about Imperial prison records? Have you and Captain Syndulla had any luck there?"

"We've called in all of our favors from friends. Nobody with Tamar's description was sent to a prison camp in the last eight weeks. So either she's alive in of the darkest and deepest parts of the Empire or..." Kanan's voice trailed off.

Kallus let a few moments of silence pass between them before speaking again. "I am wondering if it is possible that Thrawn has not imprisoned or executed Tamar at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Thrawn is impressed with people who can compete with his intelligence and eloquence," Kallus said slowly. "And Tamar possess the gifted combination of beauty, cleverness, and sophistication. I wonder if he has other plans in mind for her."

"You don't mean-" Kanan blurted out. When Kallus did not respond, the Jedi ground his teeth with barely-suppressed rage. "Monster," Kanan growled under his breath.

"As terrible as the facts remain, such an option is the safest best for now."

"How so?"

"It confirms that Tamar is indeed alive," Kallus explained. "And that he intends to keep her indefinitely. If not, Thrawn would have made Tamar's existence more conspicuous as bait to draw you all out. But he hasn't because he must not want any of you to find her."

Kanan managed a small sigh but Kallus couldn't tell if it was in relief or defeat. "Then we'll have to proceed cautiously. Any other advice you can give us?"

"I know that Thrawn's prowess is only matched by his arrogance. You've bested him before and he won't want to lose again. If Thrawn suspects that rebels are getting closer to finding Tamar, he may transport her somewhere else in the universe where it will become even more difficult to find her."

"I see." Kanan pressed his fingertips together. "What do you propose we do?"

"I recommend that you tell Ezra and the girls that the odds of Tamar being alive are high. That should give them enough optimism to keep trying to find her. But remind them for her sake to continue researching as discreetly as possible using other aliases, ones that cannot trace them back to the Alliance."

"Thank you, I'll do just that." Kanan rose to his feet and shook Kallus' hand. While the defector left the room to speak with one of the generals, Kanan remained standing in place.

"How much of that did you hear?" he asked Ezra.

The teen stepped out from behind the corner where he had been eavesdropping. "All of it." His voice was low and sharp. "So," Ezra went on. "Thrawn's got Tamar under his thumb."

"We don't know that for sure until we have concrete evidence," Kanan warned him. "And remember what Kallus just told us. We need to be discreet or else Thrawn will know we're up to something."

"I know." He heard Ezra's footsteps draw closer. "And Kallus also said that Thrawn wants people who can compete 'with his intelligence and eloquence', right?"

"Right," said Kanan slowly. "So what do you have in mind?"

A-A-A

_Borffin cantina, Mid-Rim sector_

Hatak Moser was shuffling his sabacc cards leisurely when the dark-haired young man walked into the cantina. His blue-eyed gaze was clear and focused in contrast to the glowering mistrustful looks of the other customers. Hatak doubted he was old enough to shave. The young man looked around the room and upon seeing Hatak, walked right up to him.

Hatak glanced at his data-pad. "Mister…Roads, is it?" he finally asked.

"That's me."

"Sit down."

Ezra did so and then assessed Hatak. The tall lithe man had a weather-beaten complexion and his gaunt face was pockmarked. His hair was cropped short and shot with gray tints. But his eyes were steady and the color of a stormcloud as they starred out at the world with caution and resolution.

In a past life Hatak Moser could have been a Republic university professor. In a past life he probably was. His dark gray eyes were already scanning Ezra up and down to see if "Mister Roads" was actually worth his time or some silly child come to play a stupid prank on him.

"What can I get you?" Hatak asked. "Some bantha milk and cookies? Or maybe a nice candy-flavored bun?"

Ezra scowled at him from across the table. Even on Lothal, the urban legend of using sweets laced with truth and sleeping serums for unsuspecting children still existed. It was a rude snub and Ezra clenched his fist in his lap to prevent himself from lashing out at the barb.

"I see you're quick to get riled up." Hatak pushed the sabaac cards aside. "Let's see if you're quick with explaining yourself."

"I need your help," Ezra said. "One of my friends has been kidnapped and I want you to rescue her."

Hatak snorted under his breath. "You're looking in the wrong place, Mister Roads. The customers of this cantina cater to less noble deeds: smuggling, sabotage, and an occasional assassination or two. Stuff of your nightmares. You'd do better to hire heroes elsewhere."

"I don't have any money," the teen admitted.

"Then you are not only wasting my time but yours as well." Hatak got to his feet. "Good luck rescuing your friend, Mister Roads. My colleagues at the bar will see you to the door."

"I think Grand Admiral Thrawn is holding her prisoner."

The mention of Thrawn's name caused Hatak's casual demeanor to tighten slightly. A glint appeared in his eye. Then he spoke again. "I am sorry for your friend's fate. But Thrawn does not take prisoners. Your comrade is likely dead already."

"I doubt it." Ezra took out a projector and pressed a button. A hologram of Tamar rose up in his palm. "She's special and I'm sure that Thrawn knows it. That's why I believe he's holding her hostage."

Hatak's expression held as he studied the hologram. In that briefest moments of opportunities, Ezra could confirm that he wasn't immune to its influence. "She's a lovely lady," he said at last. "I hope you find someone else to rescue the damsel in distress."

"No," Ezra insisted firmly. He turned off the hologram and slipped it back into his pocket. " _You_. It has to be you, Hatak Moser."

"And pray tell, why of all the riffraff in the galaxy must I be the one to take on this suicidal mission free of charge?"

"To avenge Nightswan."

Hatak's body froze at the sound of the name escaping Ezra's lips. His eyes grew wide for a moment and then narrowed pointedly at Ezra. Two men at the bar started to approach but Hatak waved them off. Then he yanked Ezra by the collar and shoved him back into his seat.

"What do you know about Nightswan?" hissed Hatak.

"I know his real name was Nevil Cygni," Ezra declared frankly. "I know he was a criminal who bested Thrawn many times on smuggling and sabotage operations."

"So you've done your research." Hatak's voice softened ever-so-slightly with approval. "Did you know he died at the battle of Batonn in an explosion?"

"I do now."

Anger replaced Hatak's wariness as he jabbed a finger in Ezra's face. "Then you should also know that you are dealing with a very dangerous soldier, young man. Nevil Cygni was one of my closest friends. He may have been an outlaw but he was an honorable one who did not gamble with other lives carelessly in his missions and always paid back his debts. He was fortunate to have survived as long as he did with Thrawn chasing him across the galaxy."

"And as your friend, doesn't Cygni deserve justice?" persisted Ezra. "By you besting Thrawn once more as Nightswan's ally?"

"Hmmph." Hatak sipped from his mug of ale. "Around here there's a saying that you know a Wookie by his smell and a Jedi by his tongue. Oh, don't bother to deny it. Only a Jedi would have the audacity to walk up to strangers and demand expectations from them. Will you carve out my face with your lightsaber if I don't comply? Or perhaps one of those magical mind tricks will suffice?"

"I'd rather not."

Hatak gave a snort of deliberation and took another gulp of ale. The teen was still starring at him with those unwavering blue eyes. He wasn't showing any facial tics but "Mister Roads" was giving away everything in his eyes.

Ezra leaned over the table. "Please," he begged softly. "She's risked everything to save me. I have to get my friend out."

"So you're motivated by duty and I'm motivated by vengeance."

"Motivations aren't as important as results," Ezra insisted.

"Aren't they?" Hatak put down his mug. "You are actually beginning to intrigue me, young Jedi. So no matter how honorable or dishonorable our intentions are, what matters is that the endgame benefit both of us, right?" Ezra nodded. "And what if I decline?"

"Then I'll go save her myself."

"And get yourself killed by Thrawn in the attempt," Hatak remarked. He drummed his fingers on the table. "I will admit that the opportunity to score a small victory against Thrawn is a tempting one, especially in the name of Nightswan. And the death of an endangered species such as a Jedi would be a loss in the galaxy. Still, I could just turn you over the Imperials right now for a reward."

"If you were that kind of criminal then you would have done that already," the young Jedi pointed out. "And you told me yourself how honorable Nightswan was. You can do right by him by helping me."

"Hmmm." Hatak leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "If you had mentioned anyone else's name I'd dismiss your quest like an outdated data-chip."

Ezra's eyes brightened up. "So you'll do it?"

"Not so fast, Mister Roads. Or young Jedi, or whatever you call yourself. If you can't pay me then you'll have to owe me a favor." He raised an index finger in the air. "A  _very_  big favor."

"Understood."

"Then there's the matter of extracting your friend from Thrawn's grasp. Do you know where she is?"

"Almost," Ezra assured him.

For once, the right corner of Hatak's mouth tweaked up. "Then we'd better get to work so that 'almost' becomes 'definite'."

A-A-A

_Naboo, several weeks later_

The drapes were pulled back and the vases refreshed with new flowers when Thrawn returned to his estate. After much time on the Chimera, the sight of the slender pink blossoms in blue glass vases was a welcomed sight to the grand admiral. Even more welcoming would be the presence of his wife.

But she was not in the house. He followed the sounds of high-pitched warbling out of the lounge and forward, to the outside garden. Here the display was even more breathtaking with fire-poppies and ember-lotus blossoms bursting in every corner, their sweet perfume wafting in the air around him. The pond had been replaced with an arbor of bamboo where exotic birds were bathing in a brass bowl and chirping merrily.

It wasn't the birds that Thrawn had been hearing. It was the sound of two human boys and two human girls diligently participating in their music lesson. Their singing was still slightly off-key but persistent and cherry as they sang in time to Tamar waving her hand in the air. She applauded approvingly when they ended and realized they were starring at someone behind her. She turned to face her husband.

"You have certainly been busy while I was gone," he told Tamar.

She gave him a pleasant smile. "You know me well enough to know I cannot tolerate idleness for long." To the children she said, "Please pay your respects to the grand admiral."

The girls curtsied but averted their eyes away in fear of the stern red-eyed man. The two boys did their best to hide their anxieties but saluted respectfully, admiring the high-ranked insignia plaques on his uniform. Tamar handed them each a data chip. "Set aside one hour every day to practice. The chips will chime your favorite tune when you complete each session so make sure you stick to your schedule."

"Thank you, Lady Ily'an," chirped the smallest girl. She nearly darted out of the room to avoid the gaze of her husband. The others filed out of the room quickly, then broke into runs when they had left the house.

"Why did you program the chips to chime?" he inquired.

"Setting a schedule can be tedious for small children," she explained. "But once they get into a routine they will find it easier. They each told me their favorite melody so that will be their incentive to continue practicing."

Thrawn examined the door that the children had exited out of and then went back to Tamar. "So in spite of the artwork and the garden, you still managed to find time to teach children."

"Not 'in spite' of but 'because of'," Tamar said brightly. "I've been motivated lately." She followed Thrawn back towards the house and into his gallery.

"What did the restorer say about the Type Four blaster?" he asked.

She glanced down at her notes and then gestured to the glittering weapon on the table. "He can fully restore the internal lock for an additional eight hundred credits."

"That will not be necessary. The Type Four was decommissioned after the Clone War for instability in closed-space combat," Thrawn said. "I only require the exterior to be cleaned and properly modified for historical purposes."

"I am confident that he will do so for half that price," Tamar said.

"And what of the painting?" He gestured to an Onderon landscape on the wall. "The small nuances of the artist's brushstrokes confirm that it is a copy and not the original piece hanging in the royal gallery."

"It is a hand-painted replica," Tamar agreed. "But renditions of infamous pieces is what the artist is renowned for. He's one of the most accomplished painters registered in Guild and his clients are satisfied with his work."

"Well, I see no point in keeping it further. It can be liquidated with the other pieces in storage unless you desire it for yourself."

Tamar shook her head. "It's charming but not my taste. However…" she paused to deliberate.

His brows arched up. "I am open to alternatives."

"If its value of ten thousand isn't a great financial loss to you then it could be of other value."

"How so?"

"It might be helpful to keep this piece on hand to present as a gift or reward to a colleague," she explained. "It is indeed a replica but a well-designed one. Having been in the possession of a grand admiral, this painting now has a social stamp of approval on it."

"An intriguing perspective," Thrawn commented. "Then I will not press you any further. Keeping it for the services of loyalty will potentially be more valuable then ten thousand."

He smiled approvingly. "I thank you for your advice, Tamar. Your creativity is a breath of fresh air."

He pressed a drawstring pouch into her hand. Tamar opened it up and pulled out a tiny music boxed adorned with red and blue seed beads in delicate mosaic patterns.

"As I recall, you had a passion for the handcrafted music boxes in the Core," Thrawn said.

"I do indeed," Tamar agreed. She opened it up and several playful musical notes escaped the music box. "This one is inlaid with burnished gold. It must be worth a king's ransom."

"More of a prince's ransom," Thrawn told her. "His highness wished to express his gratitude after my troops destroyed a counterfeit ring in his domain."

"And you received nothing for yourself?"

He drew closer and slowly, lightly, ran a finger down the side of Tamar's palm from her wrist to her smallest finger. "The sight of your face when you are pleased is an adequate gift to me," Thrawn murmured.

He watched her lekku quiver from the raw energy of physical contact, fingers curling inward with pleasure. "Mithrawnuruodo," Tamar whispered. "It is the middle of the day."

"So it is. Do we need chaperons?"

She chose to change the subject before things became more intimate. "I hope you are hungry. I've had a special menu prepared including fresh meilooruns and five-blossom bread."

"I've not yet eaten five-blossom bread. Tell me, why does it have that name?" asked Thrawn.

"It's made with five different types of honey and is best made from the flowers that grow on this planet," she explained.

"Then I look forward to trying the delicacy."

Their conversation was cut in by the the protocol droid who glided into the room.

"I did not give you permission to interrupt us." A note of irritation crept into Thrawn's voice.

"Lieutenant Dunam is in the dining room waiting to see you, Grand Admiral," the droid answered in her emotionless tone.

Tamar's face had flipped from pleasant relaxation to sheer terror in a heartbeat. One glance at her confirmed to Thrawn that she knew  _exactly_  who Lieutenant Dunam was. And Thrawn's hypothesis about his alias was equally on par with the truth.

"Come my dear," he encouraged Tamar. "We mustn't keep the lieutenant waiting."

Tamar made an effort to move away but Thrawn gripped her by the shoulders and steered her towards the dining room. Unable to break out of his grasp, she found herself moving in the direction that he was guiding her towards. Her footsteps were heavy and reluctant as they approached their elusive guest.

Commander Ezra Bridger was sitting at the dining room table dressed in the olive-green uniform of an Imperial officer. Even his insignia plaques were accurate according to his rank. The costume fit him well but his expression was too open, too expressive for him to deceive Thrawn. It was not a role that the grand admiral could see the young Jedi playing often.

The officer's cap had been plunked haphazardly on the back of Ezra's chair. He had a knife in one hand, a fork in the other, and was calmly tucking in the meal Tamar had set out. Seeing the two of them standing across the room, Ezra's expression brightened up and he waved to her.

"Tamar!" he exclaimed cheerily. "I knew I got the right house by your garden." He said nothing to Thrawn but popped another piece of meat in his mouth.

She squeezed a hand to her chest and struggled to regain air. "What are you doing here?!"

"Came to pick you up." Ezra pulled a roll of five-blossom bread out of the basket and took a bite. "Wow, this is bread? It's like eating clouds."

Tamar could feel her spine tighten like a wire. "Are you crazy, Ezra Bridger?!" she finally lashed out.

"He is headstrong and brash but I would not consider this rebel to be mentally insane," Thrawn concluded. The unfazed rebel before him intrigued Thrawn and he was interested to see how this play would unfold.

"Thanks," said the teen.

"I presume that your presence here is not unintentional. You volunteered to be a distraction," presumed Thrawn. "No doubt your allies are attempting to infiltrate the building as we speak to extract Tamar."

"No doubt," Ezra echoed. He tasted a spoonful of custard and licked it clean. "Not bad. You Imperials should spend less time conquering worlds and more time on your desserts."

"Ezra," Tamar warned him. She placed both palms on the table. "You're in danger just being here. You need to get out now."

"I'll get out when we're good and ready, Tamar." He pointed to the basket of rolls. "Are you two going to eat all of those? I can't stand seeing food go to waste." Ezra calmly plucked out two more rolls and stuffed them into his pockets.

"You presume that you know the outcome, Commander Bridger," said Thrawn. He rested a hand upon Tamar's shoulder. "The Lady Ily'an is my wife, legally bound to me by the highest authority of the Empire's laws."

The Chiss gave the young man an even stare that usually had the ability to make others look away uncomfortably. If Ezra was unnerved, he did a decent job hiding it and merely shrugged his shoulders. "So let's ask the lady. Tamar, do you want to leave with me right now?"

Thrawn intervened before she could answer. "What she wants is irrelevant to the situation. If I command my wife to stay then she is obligated to do so."

"Really? Huh," Ezra concluded. "I may not know everything about Imperial rules except that there are too many of them. But Tamar's taught me about business and Kanan has taught me about politics so let me fill you in on three points you're missing."

Tamar could only gape at Ezra's audacity while Thrawn was clearly enjoying the spectacle. "Please, young Jedi. Enlighten me."

"Gladly. First, a legal Republic marriage means there must be mutual consent between a husband and wife. Tamar would never willingly cooperate with the Empire so I'm guessing you've made a threat to keep her in line. A forced marriage is an invalid one."

"Republic laws do not apply under Imperial reign."

"The Jedi are guardians of those laws. So long as Kanan and I are alive they're valid," Ezra shot back. "What you've done to Tamar is illegal  _and_  immoral."

"I will yield to your logic for now. What else?"

"You spoke vows, didn't you? That's also invalid. Anything that isn't in writing doesn't count as a legal binding contract." Ezra grinned at Tamar. "You taught me to always ask for a receipt when doing business."

She shook her head at him, her face set with a grim expression.

Ezra turned back to Thrawn. "I believe that's two in my favor."

"And the third?"

The Jedi's steady blue eyes matched the sharp tint of the Chiss' red gaze. "The third is that you don't deserve Tamar."

"I believe you are trying to stall me while your attempt to kidnap my wife plays into motion."

"Your wife." Ezra snorted. "It's just funny every time you say it. Yes, they're surrounding the building as you speak."

"Even with the security codes for the central shields?" he inquired.

"Uh..." Ezra's optimism wavered as he furrowed his brow. "Working on it."

Thrawn let out a soft chuckle. "Your overconfidence is a dangerous asset, Ezra Bridger. I thought the Jedi were known for their patience and caution."

"I'm still an apprentice. It may take me a few times to get something right but when I do, it sticks," Ezra said. "Since I'm here you might as well see my lightsaber."

He drew out his weapon and placed it on the table. "Go ahead," he urged Thrawn. "It won't bite."

After considering Ezra's expression and concluding that he was of no threat at this time, the grand admiral walked towards the table and picked it up.

"Remarkable," he said. "Your engineering skills almost compensate for your haste." He turned it over and ran his fingers down the hilt. "Tell me, how do you keep the kyber crystal in a constant state of energy without overheating the conductor?"

"Cycling energizers," Ezra told him.

"I see." Thrawn curled his fingers around the lightsaber. "I assure you that after your plan fails today, this lightsaber will be kept in a place of honor in my gallery."

"Next to the Syndulla kalikori of course," Ezra said with a smirk. "Maybe I should just take out the kyber crystal now and swallow it."

"And have your stomach slit afterwards?" Thrawn shook his head. "It would be a poor end for a Jedi apprentice."

He replaced the lightsaber on the table. Just then, a soft chiming sound was heard in the room. Thrawn removed his comm-link and brought it to his lips. "Yes?" A tinny voice warbled into the speaker. "Very good. Come right in."

Thrawn lowered his hand. "Commander Bridger, I would appreciate it if you would continue entertaining my wife for a few more minutes. I have some business to attend to elsewhere in the house." He bowed over Tamar's hand and walked out of the room.

"Huh." Ezra starred at the door where Thrawn had just exited. "Wonder if he saw his own shadow."

Tamar, who had been trying to break herself out of the state of shock, finally had enough stress pumping through her body to make her shake a fist at Ezra. "You have no idea how foolish you were to come here," she said. "Thrawn is five steps ahead of you! You can't beat him!"

"I'm not here to beat him," Ezra insisted. He rose and placed both hands on the table. "I told you, I'm here to get you out."

"You can't," she said firmly. "I've made my choice. I'm staying here."

The padawan scowled at her. "You can't be serious, Tamar. If Thrawn threatened you with your friends then don't worry. They're safe."

Tamar shook her head wearily at Ezra. "If I leave, no on will be safe from Thrawn's wrath."

"It's bad enough he's put you into a cage. Now you're building one around yourself too?"

She marched up to him and put her hands on his shoulders. "I don't know what Thrawn is planning but you need to get out of here.  _Now_." Tamar tried to shove Ezra away from her but he only budged a few inches.

The doors behind them nearly smashed apart when six stormtroopers, who must have been waiting for Thrawn's command, burst into the room. Ezra nearly pushed Tamar aside to get her out of their firing range. He was too far to grab his lightsaber at this point but was eager to draw upon his other powers in the meantime.

Tamar saw Ezra thrust out his hands at the stormtroopers. She was anticipating the invisible power of the Force to send them sprawling back but instead, they remained trained in fixed positions. Ezra's eyes flashed with astonishment at the lack of the Force and he starred at his hands, surprise dissolving into fear as the realization that his powers were useless. He strained for his lightsaber but it remained immobilized on the table and could not respond to his call.

Tamar heard a sharp snap of energy vibrate through the air. Twin blue rings of blaster fire struck Ezra in the torso and he crashed to the floor.

"Ezra!" Tamar cried out. She whirled on Thrawn who had just reappeared. For a split second Tamar was sure that he had fired the shots. But his hands were preoccupied with the sleek reptilian creature curled up in his arms. The orange scales along its back glittered as it blinked through beady dark eyes across the room. He watched calmly as the padawan lay moaning on the ground.

Tamar's mouth instantly went dry and her heart slammed back and forth against her ribcage. Somehow, that creature, that  _thing_  had something to do with Ezra's sudden weakness. But how could Thrawn have prepared for this? No, that was the wrong question to ask. Only Thrawn would have the foresight to arm himself with such a creature and the only question that remained was where in the galaxy could such a creature exist.

"Ysalamiri," Thrawn explained quietly. "Emulating a neutral aura around them to counter a Jedi's powers."

Thrawn was not smiling but in his voice was the pleasure of a strategist who knew that he had the upper hand. "It was fortunate that I was able relocate the ysalamiri in case of dangerous circumstances." He rested a hand upon the creature's back and stroked its scales. The ysalamiri's forked tongue flickered out in pleasure at its master's blessing.

The stormtroopers had gotten Ezra to his feet and pinned his arms behind his back. Still carrying the yslarmi, Thrawn walked up to the young Jedi. "Your noble intentions do you credit, Ezra Bridger. But your heart and mind are not synchronized. That is why you fail."

Dumbstruck at the sudden twist of events and numbed from the blaster shots, Ezra had nothing to say. But two of the stormtroopers struck him on the back of his head and began kicking and punching him.

"Enough," commanded Thrawn. "The Jedi must be an undamaged prize when he is delivered to Mustafar." His red eyes glittered with malice. "Lord Vader will be anticipating your arrival there as his personal guest."

Tamar's head was spinning from Thrawn's verdict. She clutched the back of a chair to keep herself from passing out.

 _Vader_. Thrawn had sentenced Ezra to death.

"What, no witty remarks? No Jedi prose?" he asked Ezra.

The Jedi glared at him in silent defiance just before Ezra's lips pursed up and he spit in Thrawn's face.

This time a stormtrooper drove his fist into Ezra's stomach, causing the teen to double over in pain. Thrawn remained passive and calmly wiped the gob off his chin with one sleeve.

"I see you will not allow yourself to be defeated with honor like a soldier. You would rather die like a common criminal?" Ezra glowered from Thrawn's questions. "Very well. But I will keep your lightsaber as a memorial to your legacy."

"The lightsaber belongs to Tamar," Ezra finally said in a low growl. "Touch it and you seal your doom."

Thrawn had almost reached back for the lightsaber on the table but upon hearing Ezra's words, he drew his hand away. "Very well. I will honor your last request by giving it to my wife."

He gave a final nod to the stormtroopers who dragged Ezra out of the room.

It was silent again. The curtains stirred restlessly from a mild breeze.

Tamar felt empty and desolate. Ezra had been taken to his execution and she had done absolutely nothing to stop it. She starred at the spot where the Jedi had just been standing and the back at Thrawn. For the longest moment, neither Tamar nor Thrawn said anything. Then Tamar's bones seemed to break apart until she finally sank to her knees in despair.

"Please," she begged. Tamar seized Thrawn by the sleeve and yanked at his arm. " _Please_ ," she repeated as her throat tightened up. She starred up at him with tears pricking in her eyes and not a shred of respect left in herself.

"I am begging you not to send him to Darth Vader," she pleaded. "I will obey you as a loyal wife. I will serve you for the rest of my life, I will be your slave and do anything you command me—"

Thrawn's right hand clamped down on her and yanked Tamar back up to her feet. It was the first time he had ever touched her with anything more than gentleness.

His eyes were cold and unrelenting. "The wife of a grand admiral must not cower like a servant," he commanded. "The Jedi has chosen his path as you have chosen yours. You must accept defeat with grace."

He released his grip on her and Tamar slumped down into a chair.

She looked sadly at the lightsaber on the table.

"Take it," Thrawn ordered her. "I cannot touch it."

Tamar shook her head woefully.

Thrawn bent over her chair to whisper into her ear. His voice had become soft again, almost empathetic. "Defeat is a bitter tonic, Tamar. But it will teach you how to face your battles and heal your self-inflicted wounds. If you allow yourself to mourn indefinitely then you will drown in pain and suffering."

Tamar shut her eyes. " _Damn you,_ " she thought.  _"Damn you."_

She felt twin tears instantly stream down her face. Then a thumb brushed over her cheekbone, smoothing away the salt and the sting. Tamar opened her eyes again to see her husband by her side.

"I will help you to mend," Thrawn assured her. "You will learn to move on."

She managed to swallow. "I can't."

"You will," Thrawn assured her. He rose and rested his hand upon the back of her chair.

She starred at him with wonder and consideration, then down to the lightsaber that remained loyally in place in the absence of its master. Two paths had been placed before Tamar and she had walked upon them with caution and discretion: aid to the Rebellion and devotee to the Empire. But without hope, without the will to try and risk everything, what was left?

 _"I tried everything,_ " she thought.  _"I risked everything to save Ezra."_

The lightsaber's silent existence remained in her sight as it seemed to question her.

_"Did you?"_

She could feel Thrawn's presence behind her, steadfast and unyielding as a fortress of durasteel. He knew how to identify a Jedi, had found a way to capture a Jedi, and knew who could destroy a Jedi. But did Thrawn truly understand what a Jedi was?

Tamar knew that she did not understand either. But she was willing to learn, to commit, and to push herself back into the Light if only it would save Ezra Bridger.

Cheating. Strategy. Art. Music. Numbers. Credits. Power. Wars.

The Force.

In a flash, the lightsaber was in Tamar's hands and the muscles in her fingers felt tighter as she clamped onto it. She swung it in a half-circle of near blindness and madness, hearing it hiss at it slashed through the air in a blaze of green light. The lightsaber then went spinning out of Tamar's hand, tearing a gash along the wall and then landing on the ground where it sparked restlessly.

She dropped her hands to her sides, gasping in disbelief at what she had just done.

The ysalamiri was also on the floor and writhing in pain. The vile animal screeched and let out a foul smell as dark blood oozed out of its body.

Tamar tore her eyes away and up to see fresh blood seeping through Thrawn's uniform, red as his eyes and almost beautiful as it blossomed across his white jacket and stained his blue skin. He starred at her with shock, his eyes sparkling with bewilderment. Then the realization of her rash action crystallized and his gaze darkened, embers glowing with wrath at her treachery.

He did not shout her name but said it in an ominous voice that slid out over his tongue. " _Tamar_."

The woman and the lightsaber fled from the room.

A-A-A

Somewhere between the dining room and the landing platform on the roof, Tamar managed to control her shaking hands long enough to turn the lightsaber off. She stuck it behind her back and marched up to the guard who was standing in the back of the transport ship that held Ezra prisoner.

"Open this transport," she ordered the guard.

"Ma'am, I cannot."

 _"I am the wife of the grand admiral and I order you to open this transport!"_  she screeched in his face.

The stormtrooper aimed his blaster at Tamar's chest. "My orders are to keep anyone from opening this transport," he said. "Including you."

She turned on the lightsaber. The stormtrooper was only distracted for a split-second, long enough for Tamar to stab the tip of it into his shoulder. She could feel the heat of the lightsaber searing through his armor and Tamar's empathy was hurt at the thought of what pain she was causing him, even a soldier of the Empire.

The stormtrooper crumpled to the ground, delirious from his wound. Tamar saw the comm-link roll out of his hand and she crushed it with her heel before he could contact anyone else.

"Ezra!" she shouted, banging on the back door of the transport.

"Tamar?" his muffled voice came through the metal barrier.

"Yes! I'm here and I've got your lightsaber!" she nearly shouted to make herself heard.

"I can't get out," Ezra shouted back. "There's two more of those animals in here. I need you to break the door console with my lightsaber."

The transport started to hum with life, warning Tamar and Ezra that the soldiers in the ship's cockpit were prepping the engines for takeoff. If the ship lifted off the ground, Ezra fate would be sealed.

"How do I do that?" asked Tamar.

"There's a metal box on the right side of the door. Burn through it! Hurry!"

Tamar tried stabbing at the console with the lightsaber. Wires burnt and sparks leapt out of the electronic box but the doors remained sealed. She yanked out a few of the wires, nearly scorching her fingers in the attempt.

The engines were getting louder. The transport started to shake with impact. It lifted itself up several inches off the ground.

The vertical doors finally parted a crack, just barely enough for Tamar's fist to fit through. She could see the top of Ezra's head through the small space. He rushed forward and she saw his fingers reaching for the small breach between the doors.

"Can you get my lightsaber through it?"

Tamar turned off the lightsaber and turned it around so that the handle would face Ezra. She jammed it in as far as it could go and then the transport began to lift off.

"That's enough! Stay back!" Ezra shouted. She could see his hand trying to pull the lightsaber further in but it was still trapped between the two metal plates.

The rocket thrusters on the back of the transport blasted out waves of hot air, sending Tamar sprawling back against the pavement. She hoisted herself up on her elbows and tried to run back towards it but the wind was too strong and it was already speeding skyward, now hovering over her head. Tamar lifted her hands upwards as if she could pull the transport back to the ground.

"Ezra!" she cried out.

She couldn't hear his voice anymore. Tamar heaved out in exhaustion, watching the transport rising into the serene blue sky and blocking out the sun for the briefest of moments.

The wounded stormtrooper was still alive and trying to staunch the bleeding from Tamar's attack. She barely registered his presence because a hand clamped onto the nape of her neck. She was spun around and locked between Thrawn's chest and arms.

His eyes flared with unfathomable fury as Thrawn's hands squeezed into Tamar's spine. His clenched teeth parted into a hiss.

"If I have to chain you to myself..."

Tamar didn't hear the end of his verdict because his fingers has wrapped around her left lekku. Thrawn yanked down on the mantral and the world instantly flipped upside down for Tamar.

She blacked out.

A-A-A

Ezra was running out of the time. The gap in the door was letting in air as the transport continued its destination skyward. Soon the air would be too thin to breathe and he'd be dead before they would be halfway to Mustafar.

His lightsaber was still caught clamped between the two metal plates of the doors. But Tamar had followed his instructions so at least the handle was facing him.

He wrapped his hands around the lightsaber's hilt and began pulling it towards himself with all his might. The two ysalamiri on the floor snarled at him and slowly slithered towards the Jedi. Ezra thought about trying to kick them back further to break the bubbles of invisible energy around them but then he had a better idea.

Ezra fished into his pockets and yanked out a bread roll. He tossed it towards one ysalamiri, who snapped it up greedily. The other ysalamiri barred its teeth with jealousy and crept towards his rival. Seeing them now riled up, Ezra threw the second roll between the ysalamiri. They started tearing at each other's throats for the food.

While the animals were distracted, Ezra focused on wrestling with his lightsaber. He managed to rotate it enough to turn the ignition button on.

The caught lightsaber flared to life. Heaving and pushing with all his might, Ezra managed to tilt it upwards so that the blade was cutting through the metal at a slow but nevertheless consistent pace. The further inward it melted through the door, the loose the lightsaber began in Ezra's hands.

"Yes!" he exclaimed. Ezra continued the upward motion until the lightsaber was finally freed and he drew it back from the scorched door, clasping it in both hands. In two swift blows he struck each of the ysalamiri in a clean sweep.

They shrieked twice and stopped moving.

He could feel the rush of the Force restoring itself into his body like a river racing through a barren field. Ezra plunged his lightsaber into the opposite wall and the metal began to soften upon contact. From there it was a matter of minutes until he reached the cockpit and rendered both pilot and co-pilot unconscious.

"C'mon, c'mon," Ezra grumbled. He fiddled with the controls until he had the frequency he was looking for and hastily punched in the security codes.

 _"Specter six, where have you been?"_  Never had he been so glad to hear Sabine's voice through the speakers.

"Busy, Specter five. Where's our 'hero'?"

" _Don't call me that,_ " Hatak snapped.  _"Have you secured your half of the rescue off Naboo?"_

"Working on it," Ezra muttered. He adjusted the controls to maneuver the transport ship around until it was heading back to the river estate. "Don't come any closer until I give you new coordinates. I don't want anyone else falling into Thrawn's trap again."

_"Tamar?"_

"Working on it!"

A-A-A

Tamar blinked groggily to find herself starring at the ceiling of her bedroom. Her lekku throbbed where Thrawn had ruthlessly seized it.

She realized that she was lying on the bed and incapable of feeling her hands, Oh wait, yes. Tamar could wiggle her fingers even if she couldn't see them. A jerk on her arms confirmed they had been strategically tied to the head of the bed. She yanked harder and the fabric pressed deeper into her wrists.

Alarms went off in Tamar's head.  _"I have a bad feeling about this,"_ she thought.

"I am sorry," Thrawn's voice hovered overhead. "I never wished to have to resort to such methods." He slid into her view as he sat on the edge of the bed. His white jacket had been removed and a bandage was secured around his arm. All of the blood had been cleaned away.

Bile began to creep up her throat as she kept tugging on her wrists but they remained bound against the bed. "Why am I tied down?" Tamar asked.

"You have broken my trust, Tamar. I cannot allow you to deceive me anymore."

"I didn't deceive you!" she nearly shouted. "I've done everything you wanted!"

"Until now." Thrawn sighed and shook his head. "What a beautiful life we have had. You are everything I could have hoped for and more; an exquisite wife and devoted lover. In time I would have presented you to Coruscant where all of those fools would kneel at your feet and worship your presence."

His fingers stroked across her chin, causing Tamar to flinch. She would have tried to bite his fingers off if she knew it would do any good.

"My muse," Thrawn said with reverence. "My queen. I would have done anything to gain your love."

"Anything except give me my freedom," Tamar lashed out.

He went on. "Yet you destroyed it with a single blow. Does the word of this prophecy still frighten you?"

"Untie me and I'll let you know."

"No. You will tell me  _now_."

He heard her exhale with aggravation. "I attacked you because you were going to send a seventeen-year-old boy to his death. It has nothing to do with prophecies. You forfeited a life and didn't even blink an eye. That's why I disobeyed you."

Thrawn leaned forward to rest his weight upon his arms. "Have you learned so little since our marriage? The universe is divided between the powerful and the weak. You must rise above your enemies or you will be crushed just like them."

" _No_ ," Tamar shot back. In spite of being a captive in her home, there was too much conviction coursing through her body to let fear consume her. "It isn't about who's weak or powerful, it's about who is decent or cruel. Even the smallest of creatures has more power in himself than a Star Destroyer if he fights to protect the innocent!"

Her sudden burst of insight sent a look of bewilderment across Thrawn's face. He appraised her with rapid scrutiny as if she was one of his paintings. "How have you come to discover this?" he demanded.

Tamar said nothing. Thrawn leaned over her and starred directly into her eyes until Tamar could see the flecks of gold that danced within his own crimson gaze.

"I see you." His eyes burned as they roamed up and down her body. "That light in your eyes I saw on our wedding day. I see it now. How did you come to possess it?"

Again, she was silent. Thrawn gazed at her for several more seconds until he had what he was looking for. "You have made yourself into a vessel of the Force," he concluded.

He leaned back away from her face but remained with one leg on either side of her waist. "I must know how you did this," he ordered her.

"If you have to threaten me and tie me down then you will never know."

"It would be much easier for both of us if you relented."

"I can't tell you something I don't fully understand!" Tamar nearly cried out. Her eyes clouded over as she struggled against the bonds. "You say you want knowledge? You don't know everything! You won't  _ever_  know everything!"

"Then you will have to show me." Thrawn reached for a drawer from the nightstand rummaged around for something inside. He finally discovered what he was seeking and removed several strips of black silk. He climbed back onto the bed and was stealthily approaching her on all fours.

The panic was back in a heartbeat. "What are you-"

He bound the cloth around Tamar's eyes, sending her into a frenzy as her world was plunged into darkness. Somehow she remembered that harmless game the teens played with the kaff cups in her shop and how they giggled freely over each other. But that had been innocent fun. This was fathomless danger wrapped within the bleak void.

She felt Thrawn's fingers secure the blindfold in the back of her head. And then he shifted his weight so that she could feel his hands wrapping around her hips.

"This may feel uncomfortable at first," his voice hovered above her stomach. "But it will become more pleasurable when you allow yourself to enjoy it. You may even beg for more."

Fingers touched her ribcage and one by one, began to unfasten the clasps of her dress. Tamar's back arched upwards in panic and she screamed.

"Wait, no! Please!" Tamar shrieked.

She heard a sound like an insect humming through the air and Thrawn's presence was suddenly hoisted off her body. Someone, likely him, must have collided with a fragile surface because she heard the shoving sound of limbs in time to the cracking of a windowpane. And then a young eager voice, full of worry and sympathy, was in his place.

"Tamar? Tamar!" Ezra tore the blindfold off Tamar's face and slashed away the bonds at her wrists. He slipped an arm under her back and helped to lift Tamar up.

"Can you walk?"

"I, I'll try." But her knees knocked against each other when she tried to put them on the ground and she had to lean on Ezra for support. Then she saw that Thrawn must have collided with the window because the pane was fractured and the Chiss was crouched on the ground. Fresh blood was seeping from his shoulders down his back to where the shards of glass had torn into his skin.

In spite of his new injuries, the Chiss was already getting to his feet. He appeared to show no signs of slowing down as he glowered and lunged for Ezra. The Jedi sent Thrawn ramming back into the wall. Ezra stood with one palm extended outwards, the other clutching his lighsaber. His breath was ragged and his eyes were blazing at Thrawn.

"Stay down!" he shouted. Ezra turned off the lightsaber and made sure Tamar's arm was secured around his shoulders. "It's gonna be okay!" he told her. "Just lean on me and I'll get you out."

"Ysalamiri," she whispered into his ear.

"I know." He frowned. "I can feel them nearby. There must be more around the house."

"There are," Thrawn rasped from across the room. "You are dead already."

"Shut up," Ezra snapped. For the third time he used the Force to send Thrawn sprawling as far as he could. The Chiss went smashing through the doors until he landed on the floor in the lounge. As great as Ezra's desire was to hoist Thrawn into the air and choke the life out of him, he knew his first priority was to get Tamar and himself to safety. He desperately wanted to pull out his comm-link but his fingers were so sweaty, Ezra knew he had to conserve his energy until the time was right to contact his friends.

While Tamar leaned on Ezra for support, the two of them made haphazard footsteps to the lift in the back of the house. Once inside, Ezra tried to set Tamar down as gently as possible. He could hear the sound of stormtroopers marching through the halls and knew Thrawn wasn't too far behind him. He hastily punched in some codes and stepped away from the door, pressing his back to the metal wall behind him.

The doors slammed shut in his face. As the lift behind to hum and advance upwards, Ezra finally collapsed on the floor of lift beside Tamar. They starred at each other and gasped for air.

A-A-A

Author's notes:

Isn't Tarkin a jerk? His line about "love more and trust less" is taken directly from a quote from "The Ten Commandments", which you should all watch at least once in your lifetime to see Yul Brenner flaunting himself in a cape. Speaking of biblical themes, "Hatak" is a version of "Hatoch" from the Book of Esther who was one of the queen's trustworthy messengers.

Nevil Cyngi aka Nightswan is a canon Star Wars character from Timothy Zahn's oh-so-brilliant novel "Thrawn". Ysalamiri are from the EU "Heir the Empire" books. I don't know if ysalamiri like five-blossom bread but maybe Feast of Fiction can whip some up for us. Tamar's gone ballistic in the second half of this chapter but there's a psychopath Chiss trying to play 50 Shades of Gray against her will so give her some slack for screaming a lot. She's gotten  _way_  out of her element.


	7. Casablanca

"If we stop breathing, we'll die. If we stop fighting our enemies, the world will die. Each of us has a destiny - for good or for evil." – _Casablanca_ , 1942

"The Casablanca lily evokes the kind of romantic feelings that can mesmerize your senses and transport you to other places and time periods. They are the world's most favorite wedding flowers, favored and adored by the brides, florists, wedding planners, and guests. The reason is simple – they are one of the most beautiful flower varieties of the lily family, itself nurturing some of the most beautiful types of flowers in the world." –Gardenlilites website

"Casablanca means 'white house'." –Rei Hino,  _Sailor Moon_

"Welcome back to the fight." – _Casablanca_ , 1942

"Because Casablanca lilies are among the most popular wedding flowers, people associate it mostly with happiness and serenity. Others say the flowers are a symbol of celebration and purity. Still others associate the famous lily with majesty, pride, wealth and innocence, sweetness, and fondness of being with a loved one." - Gardenlilites website

"We're kindred spirits." –Rei Hino,  _Sailor Moon_

"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." – _Casablanca_ , 1942

A-A-A

Allison was trying to put an overly-exhausted Griggs down for his nap when someone pounded at the front door. Her son's crankiness made her too impatient to ask the droid to handle it. Perhaps it was the will of the Force, or the hand of Fate, that caused Allison to shift Griggs onto her left hip while she punched in the codes for the front door. Hopefully the pest would take one look at Griggs and then go away.

" _It must be Duchess Keiko,_ " she thought irritably.  _"If I have to hear her ranting on about her gout one more time-"_

The metallic door slid to the left and Tamar's face came into view. Allison knew something was wrong and not just because Tamar's skin was gray with nausea. She gripped Griggs in her arms as a young man next to Tamar brandished a glowing green blade in his right hand. His sword hissed inches from Allison's face.

Griggs was delighted with the newcomer's shiny weapon. He forgot about his exhaustion and reached outwards with both arms. "Light! Light!" he shrieked. "Toy! Toy!"

"Step back," the teen ordered her, his face grim with tension. Allison's grip tightened on her son as she backed away and against the wall. Tamar leaned on the young man for support as they entered her home. The young man's blue eyes flickered to the ceiling. "Does your lift go all the way to the top of this building?"

"Y-yes," she stammered.

"What's the security code?" he demanded.

"Omega eight nine four." Allison blurted it out while looking back at Tamar. The kidnapper must have subdued her to make Tamar compliant. But who would dare to abduct the wife of a naval officer? And why didn't Tamar show more fear of this this intruder and his terrifying weapon? Maybe Allison was going mad but she could have sworn that Tamar's haggard face showed a glimpse of relief.

Griggs was still squirming in his mother's arms as he reached for the man's sword. "No! Wanna play!" he whined. "Gimme! Gimmee!"

"Lock yourselves in the closet and don't come out until the stormtroopers arrive," the young man ordered her. Then to Allison's bewilderment he added, "You and your son will be safe."

For a moment, Allison's maternal instincts overwhelmed her fears and she scowled at him. Who was this scoundrel to barge into her home and assure her about Griggs?

Then her common sense took hold and Allison fled with the screaming Griggs into her bedroom, where she shoved both of them into the closet and adjusted the sensors to maximum security. For once, the muffled darkness was starting to calm Griggs down.

"Where'd da light go?" he mumbled.

Allison crouched on the floor and held him to her. She hoped he couldn't hear the sound of her teeth chattering. If they survived this ordeal, her husband would be furious when he found out. He had invested nearly every credit they owned into purchasing an ideal place to live away from the violence of the universe and now the dangers had come right to their threshold. And Thrawn, with those glowing red eyes and stern gaze, would he hold his wife's abduction over Allison's head and blame her not doing more?

Allison may have been married to a captain but Tamar's husband was an  _admiral_. With a snap of his fingers he could have Griggs taken away-

 _"Stop it!_ " she mentally screamed to herself. _"This isn't your fault. You need to stay put with Griggs right now."_

The quiet dark space had a soothing influence on Griggs who had begun to quiet down. He yawned, feeling drowsy and comfortable in his mother's arms. And to think this is all it would've taken to make him have his nap. Allison wouldn't let that thief have the credit for this. Moments slid by as she remained curled up in a corner of the darkness. Allisson wondered why that young man would venture all the way out to Naboo for a hazardous mission and where he had procured such a peculiar-looking weapon.

She felt Griggs' head grow heavy against her collarbone. He must have finally fallen asleep because she could hear the tiny puffing sounds of air coming out of his mouth. Allison's muscles remained tight with suspense and she refused to release her grip on her son.

The sooner the stormtroopers arrived the better she would feel.

A-A-A

Ezra watched the digits on the lift change in color as it continued to carry Tamar and himself to the roof. In another situation he would have felt guilty for tarnishing the reputation of the Jedi. Now Mrs. Gray would presume anyone who held a lightsaber was a criminal.

But when Ezra had rushed into the bedchamber and seen Tamar blindfolded and bound, pinned beneath Thrawn's body, the Jedi wisdom was smashed to pieces.

His skin still crawled with disgust even as he tried to suppress the memory. One of these days he would clench his fist and squeeze the air out of Thrawn's lungs, watching the Chiss writhe in pain and then snap his spine in two. Ezra would eagerly watch the grand admiral beg for mercy just before hacking off his limbs one-by-one with the lightsaber in a slow agonizing torture-

No, no, no. He could  _not_  give in to hatred right now, no matter how much Thrawn deserved justice. Ezra had to concentrate by directing his energies outwards and towards their escape. He examined their altitude and confirmed that the hundreds of levels in the building would give them sufficient space to get to a safer area.

Ezra knelt down next to the crumpled form of Tamar. He said her name and lightly patted her cheek. "Can you hear me?" he asked.

Her eyes opened halfway and she heaved out a groan. "My head hurts." Tamar gingerly touched her left lekku and whimpered.

"Hold on." Ezra shifted his weight and reached out to her face. "Let me see if I can help with that." Tamar nodded and closed her eyes again. She felt the tips of Ezra's fingertips, barely so, but just enough to make contact with her temples. There was a faint vibrating sensation, though not unpleasant, that streaming into her temples and then began trickling through the hundreds of tiny nerves running through her lekku like thousands of water drops.

Then she felt a mild comforting connection seeping into her skin as if warm water was washing away the pain from her damaged lekku. The overwound muscles in her head and neck loosened. Tamar's clenched hands began to open slightly. She managed to take one long breath out of relief as Ezra helped her to her feet.

Still attempting to regain control of her mind and body, Tamar let her frame rest against the metal door while Ezra murmured something into his comm-link. His expression brightened up just before he switched it off. "Our pickup's close by," he assured Tamar.

She lowered her hands and starred at him. "Near the roof?"

"Not exactly," the young Jedi said.

Tamar was nervous again.

Ezra pointed a finger upward. "We need to get to the highest point in this region, which is the top of the condo building, for them to get a lock on us without getting ourselves captured again."

"And then?"

"Then we jump."

"From the roof?!" Tamar asked in mortification. Ezra nodded.

"But the river isn't deep enough! We'll be smashed by the rocks at the bottom!"

"We're not going to swim," Ezra assured her.

"No, we're going to be dead!" Tamar hissed hysterically.

The Jedi seized Tamar's hand and squeezed it hard to steady her. "Tamar, listen to me." Ezra's voice was somber as he spoke. "I know you're scared. I know Thrawn and his stormtroopers are coming for us. But there is a way out of here and that means doing something so crazy that he won't be able to predict it."

He shook her hand in his own. "I  _can_  get us out of here," Ezra insisted. His eyes were alight with the energy of the Force, blue brightening nearly silver in the afternoon light. "But you have to trust me."

Tamar's lips trembled as she squeezed Ezra's hand back with uncertainty. Gathering up all of her fears, she summoned the strength to release them and surrendered her heart to the unknown.

"I trust you."

She let Ezra lead her to the door. Finally, the lift stopped and let out a small musical chime. The door opened and Naboo's brilliant sun flooded Tamar's eyes with light, warming her chilled skin.

Tamar and Ezra stepped out onto the concrete pavement. They were now at the pinnacle of the condo units, a landing platform reserved for the private ships of the wealthy tenants who resided within the building.

Looking down where the building dropped into hundreds of levels of living quarters, Tamar could see the slim winding blue of the river and flecks of white darting between the trees.

Stormtroopers on Padme Amidala's homeworld. Was nothing sacred left in the universe?

Ezra's face was tilted skyward instead of down. He pointed to two barely-visible pinpricks in the empty blue space. "Wait for it," he said.

A spray of blaster fire shot out from the trees below. Ezra shoved Tamar behind himself to prevent the shots from reaching her.

"Almost there..."

She was lightheaded with awe, her bones and skin transparent and stilled in the moment of terror as they waited and waited-

"NOW!"

Ezra's hand was back hers and he raced ahead of her, having to pull Tamar behind him, but she allowed her footsteps to be led by the Jedi even as the abyss at the edge of the condo drew closer to greet them.

The Jedi's feet crouched for the briefest of moments and then he and Tamar leapt up into the air and nothingness of Naboo's beauty. The sensation of weightlessness held for the briefest of moments until reality and gravity attacked them and yanked Ezra and Tamar down.

A-A-A

Thrawn had reached the hill slope that overlooked five miles of homes by the river. The stormtroopers by his side were armed to the teeth. He had already received confirmation that Commander Bridger and his wife had invaded the Gray condo and taken a few further seconds into his strategy to confirm that Allison Gray and her son were safe hiding inside her closet.

It would have been protocol to inquire after their safety but for Thrawn, it was a matter of strategy. It meant that Commander Bridger hadn't holed himself up in the condo with a hostage.

No, he was on the run with Thrawn's treasure. That complicated his current plan of action but did not alter the inevitable outcome.

"Sir, we've located them." Stormtrooper QA-415 pointed to a building in the distance while two of his peers had taken shots.

"Hold your fire," he ordered them. Thrawn lifted the micro-camera to his face and peered out of the red lens. He could see two small forms on the condo roof, one of which held a pinprick of green light in his hands. They were moving to the edge of the platform and did not appear to be slowing down in pace.

Upon encountering a dead end, they persevered forward and leaped into midair. QA-415 had already lifted his blaster upwards in preparation to fire at the Jedi but the admiral placed a hand on the blaster and yanked it sharply down.

"I said  _hold_ ," he commanded in a frigid tone. QA-415 instantly complied with the admiral's command. He was silently relieved for his helmet that masked a trickle of sweat that had seeped down the side of his face. He ignored the sting of salt on his lips and focused on the two figures.

They were falling too fast and would make a terrible collision with the shallow river. One of the approaching Imperial transport ships would have to accelerate to reach them...

Until Thrawn adjusted the camera and saw two other pinpricks coming into vision. They were getting closer and he enlarged the opticals until he could make out the flares of fire spurting out of their jetpacks. Now that he knew they were Mandalorians, Thrawn's eyes narrowed into the hues of their armor. The figure clad in a mesh of pinks, blues, and purples had swooped down and captured Ezra Bridger's hand.

" _Sabine Wren,_ " he concluded.  _"The outcast of Clan Vizla."_

Towards the falling image of Tamar, a larger and broader figure in a blue-and-silver flight suit had advanced and clasped his arms securely around her waist.

_"Fen Rau, the lone survivor of Concorde Dawn."_

Thrawn lowered his micro-camera. "You may fire upon the Jedi and Sabine Wren," he said at last. "Spare Rau at the moment." He watched their shots burst through the air in spams of blue light, attempting to strike down the Jedi and his comrade. But the distance was too far and the jetpacks did them justice as Sabine and Rau flew through the air in synchronized motions. The briefest frown crossed Thrawn's face when he realized they had studied his techniques and were protecting each other from the blaster fire. Any attempt to neutralize Bridger and Wren would jeopardize Fen Rau and consequently, Tamar.

After several moments of futile attempts from the stormtroopers, Thrawn ordered them to call off the attack. He examined the chase through the vision-camera again to see in which direction the Mandalorians were heading.

Instead of veering sharply to the left, where they would find the best cover within the trees, the Mandalorians were growing smaller in size. They were moving skyward.

Thrawn turned around and made his way to the nearest Imperial cruiser.

A-A-A

_Later:_

The Chimeara was too far away to be of any use to Thrawn but the star cruiser  _Wolfbane_  was hastily prepared and he boarded it while watching the spectacle from space. The Mandalorians were nowhere to be found and instead, a theatre of battle unfolded before Thrawn; a drama for him to observe as the honored spectator.

The escapees were no doubt inside the Ghost. The only other ship in this sector was a slightly larger and sleeker blue-and-ebony Onderon cruiser. Thrawn identified it as a Clone War modification and deduced that it was not as fast or agile as the Ghost. But the Onderon ship was proving usefulness by distracting the swarming TIE fighters from getting to close to the Ghost.

Thrawn keyed in some codes on the Wolfbane's communications base. There were two sharp clicks and then he spoke, allowing his voice to be carried to the Ghost.

"This is Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Imperial cruiser Wolfbane contacting Captain Syndulla of the Rebel ship Ghost," he announced. "You have violated fourteen regulations in this sector by abducting an Imperial citizen from Naboo and taken her on board. Insomuch as the Wolfbane is prepared to incinerate your ship, I am willing to overlook your crimes this once. Return to me what is rightfully mine and you and your crew will be permitted to live and fight another day."

There was no answer. Thrawn kept his hand on the transmitter button and waited patiently for several minutes. When no response came in, he activated the transmitter again.

"This is your final warning, Captain Syndulla." Thrawn's voice darkened. "Release my wife or you will all be destroyed."

" _May spice salt your wounds,"_  Hera's voice snapped back through the speakers.

 _"And may your fortunes fall,"_ a second voice intervened. The glowing light on the monitor confirmed that it had come from the Onderon ship. Thrawn typed in additional codes and swiftly removed the possibility that it belonged to one of Saw Gerrera's fanatics. Then he shifted his attention elsewhere until he successfully confirmed the name of the pilot and the ship.

"You will share in the same punishment if you cooperate with these rebels, Hatak Moser," Thrawn cautioned him. "Surrender the Lady's Grace at once and you will receive a fair trial."

 _"I must decline your offer and accept my fate with responsibility, Grand Admiral Thrawn_ ," Moser responded.  _"But know that my actions today are committed in the name of my late comrade-in-arms, Nevil Cygni."_

Thrawn paused for a moment before speaking again. "Nightswan's death was an unfortunate outcome to a compromised battle. I respected him as a worthy opponent but could not detour his destiny. He chose his path and accepted it with dignity."

_"As I accept mine by avenging his death."_

Four additional TIEs had swooped in to blast the Ghost and the Lady's Grace to pieces. The Ghost began to detour off-course but the Lady's Grace had just released a stream of blue gas through its back engines. The gas swirled into the TIE's directions, blinding their vision screens and sending them spinning out of control.

Thrawn reactivated the transmission computer. "TIE SS-39, report."

_"Confirmed, sir. I can't secure flight control. That chemical attack must be infecting the engines!"_

Thrawn watched the Imperial fighters struggle to regain composition but they were too late. He observed the engines of the Ghost and Lady's Grace both flare up signaling their inevitable departure. There was a shrill sound of engines roaring to life and then both ships blasted forward into hyperspace, vanishing into the endless realm of space. The TIEs were still scrambling for stability as tendrils of blue gas drifted around them.

Thrawn starred at the chaos in space. His facial expression did not alter nor did any change crawl through his eyes. The officers around him all held their breath, anticipating a catastrophic reaction from their superior office.

But none came. The grand admiral remained as still as a statue on the bridge, his heartbeat and breathing tone still synchronized to the humming engines of the Wolfsbane. His red eyes remained unblinking as they gazed back out at the glittering planes of stars before him.

Yet his hands were clenched into fists behind his back.

A-A-A

_One rotation later:_

Few men would have the audacity to shout in Thrawn's face but he did not bother to chastise Captain Zachary Gray. He knew the young captain was emotionally comprised as he peppered his complaints to Thrawn despite the obvious discomfort of stormtroopers around them.

"I assure you that your wife and son were in no danger," Thrawn told him coolly.

"Danger?! A brigand broke into our home using some exotic weapon, threatened my family, and you say there was no danger?" Captain Gray shouted. "That filthy outcast could have hurt my son or abused my wife or-"

"Dear, the grand admiral did everything he could to stop them," Allison said gently. She rested a hand on her husband's shoulder. "And it was lucky that Griggs and I were able to hide until the soldiers arrived."

"That's not good enough!" Captain Gray pointed an index finger downwards. "I say a full battalion of stormtroopers be brought to Naboo right now to sweep the vicinity for this insurgent and his crew."

"They are gone," Thrawn said. "I have dealt with these insurgents before and can confirm that they will flee to avoid unnecessary losses. They took what they came for and have left Naboo permanently. I give you my word, Captain Gray. You will never see them again."

The firmness in his tone stilled Captain Gray's frustrations for the moment. He hastily left the room and gathered his son up into his arms, chattering freely with Griggs babbling back at his father.

"I am sorry for your loss," Allison said. Her tone was meek, as she found it difficult to speak to the red-eyed man, but it was a sincere comment and one that Thrawn would not brush off lightly. "Do you think the insurgents will be asking for a ransom?"

"No. They were motivated by vengeance, not profit. My wife was abducted as retribution for some slight I caused them."

Allison looked perplexed. "They took Tamar to punish you?"

"I am an office of the Imperial navy who has sent many criminals rightfully to prison. The list of people with vendettas against me is a long one indeed."

Seeing Alison's pained expression he added, "But Tamar's life will be spared. Now that these criminals have achieved their victory, there will be no need for them to execute her. She will vanish into the depths of the galaxy and remain an anonymous entity."

"Let me know if there's anything I can do." The words were out of Allison's mouth before she thought about them. What a silly girls she was! What good could she do for an officer of Thrawn's caliber?

"As a matter of fact, there may be something that could benefit us both." His red eyes glowed at her and Allison instinctively swallowed.

"In light of recent events, I will not be coming back to Naboo. The river estate will have to be sold unless someone else can look after it. But there are few people that I can trust with such an important responsibility..." His voice trailed off, allowing the offer to linger before Allison.

Her mouth fell open. "I, we, that is, we couldn't!"

"Why not? I no longer have need of the house and it is an ideal place to raise your son." His chin tilted downwards. "I am confident that you and your husband will take proper care of it."

Overwhelmed by his generosity, Allison sank into a deep curtsy. "You can count on us, Grand Admiral."

"Thank you." He offered his arm to Allison as he escorted her to the next room. As startled as she was to be so closed to the distinguished alien, his generosity gave her the courage to listen attentively to what else he had to say.

"I understand that your uncle is well-connected with the governors near Ryloth, is he not?" asked Thrawn in a lower pitch.

"Why yes," Allison agreed. She had Briggs' future and her social connections secured and now had the capacity to use her influence to assist another Imperial officer. Allison  _was_  still sorry for Tamar's losses but she had her own family to take care of...

"If you would keep your ears and eyes open around him then I would greatly appreciate the insight of a captain's wife." Thrawn added, "Nothing more. Just an occasional update would be more than satisfactory."

Allison glanced back up at the Chiss and this time, managed to make contact with his steady red gaze. She paused with deliberation, then nodded in agreement. He smoothed everything along further by offering the Onderon painting in his gallery to Captain Gray as an office ornament. Zachary's temper was soon placated by the Chiss' eloquent words and soon he was also bowing and expressing his desire to do anything to assist the grand admiral.

Thrawn bid the young couple and their son farewell and then departed from their home. From a warrior's perspective, there was no such thing as total defeat as long as one made an effort to minimize casualties.

He had lost a wife but gained two useful spies.

A-A-A

Liquidating the furniture and relocating his artwork would be a lengthy complicated task.

How ironic that the one person who could have carried out the transition in an ideal order was not there any longer. The one person that Thrawn would have anticipated to greet after a battle would no longer grace his presence.

While Thrawn was confident that he could eventually track Tamar down, such a mission would not mesh well with his other responsibilities. He knew the Emperor would not permit his special Chiss warrior to waste time pursuing a mere Twi'lek from the Outer Rim, a woman of no importance to Palpatine and his kingdom. To attempt to find her would make Thrawn appear weak and emotional in his master's eyes.

Tamar had been taken from him by the Rebellion. He would never see her again.

The stormtroopers were packing items into crates and carrying them out of the house. Thrawn remained standing in the middle of the garden watching the sun dart through the leaves of a tree. A fat bee buzzed cheerily in one of the flowers.

Her presence was here in these fragrant plants. It would remain in his blood, lingering and tormenting him with memories that he could suppress and confine but never truly obliterate from his mind.

He had done everything in his power to tend to her happiness, shielded her from dangers and provided to please her mind, body, and soul. Why had she defied all odds and resisted logic? Was the conviction of the Rebellion enough to drive Tamar away from him?

"I would have done anything to keep her," he told himself.

" _You let me go_ ," a familiar voice answered back in his thoughts. It was a frank voice, respectful yet persistent, with the twang of a human from Wild Space. Most Imperials would have scoffed at the primitive mannerisms. Yet Thrawn welcomed it back into his sub-consciousness.

"That is different."

" _How so?_ " the voice asked.  _"We were both outcasts at the Academy: the Wild Space yokel and the alien from the Unknown Regions. But we stuck together and did incredible things that I never would have dreamed of."_

"Kindred spirits," Thrawn agreed. "It is no simple matter to miss a friend, Eli."

_"Is that why you married her? To fill the void after I left?"_

Thrawn permitted the questions to linger before him as he delved back into his memories.

Eli Vanto, aid and impromptu apprentice to the only Chiss in the fleet. Eli Vanto, a potential supply officer who had listened attentively to Thrawn's instructions and flourished into one of the navy's finest commanders. Eli Vanto, who had set out for the Unknown Regions and consequently, vanished from the pages of Imperial history.

In some small part of his soul Thrawn acknowledged the hint of truth that would never fully surface in his conscience: the truth that one gone comrade could never be replaced.

Yet a different relationship with new companion had been more than gratifying to himself.

Perhaps that was why he had wed Tamar. Some of it was inspired out of pride, the warrior's desire to have a woman of ideal caliber at his side. Some of it was out of power, the thrill of a hunter pursuing an intimate game. Yet there was a third card Thrawn held close to himself. Tamar had filled his life with a beauty of spirit that he had enjoyed but had yet to grasp the entire concept of its value.

To fill the void?

Thrawn had sought to keep Tamar for himself, yes, but also to protect her from the same dangers that threatened Eli's future. Was his selfishness not justified by his more noble intentions? What soldier would not be worthy by shielding the woman he desired from a hazardous fate?

A velvety vine brushed against Thrawn's wrist. Through the murmuring wind, he could hear Eli's words of advice.

_"She made her choice. You have to let her go."_

Thrawn left the garden and walked back into the house. He stopped an officer who was packing away some of Tamar's items into a box. "Leave those," Thrawn commanded him.

"Yes, sir." The solider respectfully marched out of the room. Thrawn's fingers smoothed over one of the gowns. The gossamer caressed his skin in a soothing gesture. Tamar's scent still clung to the fabric.

He found what he was looking for and drew it out slowly from the box. In his hands was the silver headscarf Tamar had worn at their wedding. It took up almost no weight in his hands and shined as though it had been woven from moonlight. Thrawn proceed to fold it up with the most careful motions and then placed it in the bottom of a silver casket. On top of this he laid the necklace of pearls, arranging them in a perfect circle before closing the casket.

"Have this placed in my maximum security vault on Mitar," he ordered one guard. The guard took the box from Thrawn, bowed, and left the estate.

Thrawn clasped his hands behind his back and looked out at the clear blue sky though the window. He closed his eyes, imagining Tamar in one final shining moment for himself. She was standing on the white marble balcony in her most beautiful clothes. There were small golden flowers decorating her headscarf and pure white gems glittering on her neck and hands. Her eyes were half-closed and dreamy, her lips lightly parted as she sighed in blissfulness at the harmony around her.

The vision of blue, gold, and white glory faded into black as Thrawn mentally locked up the vision. He placed it into the deepest part of his mind where it would remain flawless and untouchable for the rest of his life. Then he sealed the doors behind it.

It was a secret that he would share with no one else. Not with his people or his brother. Not even Eli. Thrawn would take this treasure to his grave.

He opened his eyes and looked back at the sky. A single word escaped his lips as he forfeited himself and gave up all thoughts and hopes of Tamar forever.

"Adieu."

A-A-A

_Ghost ship, hyperspace route_

"Easy there, miss," said Rau. He helped Tamar onto a bench and got a wool blanket out from one of the shelves. She remained still and quiet as he wrapped the blanket around her.

"Space shock," he went on. "Happens to all of us in the rush of dangers. A day of rest and you'll be all right again."

She met him with a blank expression. Tamar's eyes were hollow and confused as she stared at Rau. The smile on his face melted off as he stood up again.

The door slid open and Kanan came into the room. "How's Bridger?" he asked the Jedi.

"He's fine. Sabine's taking care of him while Hera covers our tracks," Kanan said. "I can't thank you enough for your help today."

The Manadalorian touched his chestplate and bowed slightly. "It is an honorable duty of Mandalore to assist a lady in need, especially one who has been ruthlessly forced into a relationship against her will." He scowled and added, "And I thought Thrawn could stoop no lower."

Kanan walked across the room towards Tamar and bent his head towards her. "Tamar, are you all right?"

The woman slowly turned to him with the same frigid mechanical movements that she had shown Rau. Through the Force, Kanan could detect the aftermath of shock that was distorting Tamar's thoughts and emotions. It would take some time for the Twi'lek to compose herself again.

Kanan reached out and lightly touched her shoulder with a hand in a gesture of comfort. But Tamar flinched, sending a flare of negativity through him like a warning beacon. Kanan hastily broke off the contact.

"It's okay," he assured her. "You're safe. Thrawn will never hurt you again."

"Thrawn," she repeated just like a droid.

A horrible thought dawned on Kanan. "Do you remember, Tamar? Did he do anything to hurt you?" he asked gently.

Her lips opened and closed for a moment without sound. Then she spoke at last.

"He gave me his name," she confessed. "And then he took mine."

A-A-A

_Yavin Four base, three weeks later:_

All the blinds were sealed and the medical bay was cool and quiet when Ezra came in. Most of the cots were empty and two droids were humming as they monitored the machinery. It was a somber place to the young Jedi who wanted Tamar to leave it and get some sunshine.

But Tamar was still bedridden and starring out at the thin strips of sunlight that came through the slats. Insomuch as Ezra and Kanan had come to visit Tamar during her recovery, she had made little progress over the last few weeks. The medical gown she wore hung on her frame and her face looked gaunt and tired.

Ezra tried to smile. "Hey, did you sleep well?"

"I suppose so," Tamar said dully. She still continued to stare out the window.

Ezra pulled over a chair and sat down. "C'mon, Tamar. You can't stay like this."

"Like what?"

He threw up his hands. "Wasting away your life! This isn't the Tamar I know. She wouldn't give up like this."

Tamar finally turned her head to Ezra. Her lekku sagged and her face was drawn tight against the bones. Her eyes were bleak. "I'm not giving up, Ezra. I'm just tired of fighting. I lost my home to the Seperatists and my planet to the Empire. I've had my business confiscated and my family nearly taken away from me. What's the point of trying if everything will just fall apart in the end?"

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

"Because we have to keep going to stay alive," Ezra said at last. "And you of all people know just how to do that."

"Not anymore, Ezra Bridger. I'm grateful that you rescued me but I'm all burnt out. There's nothing left for me to do. Besides, you have more important things to worry about than wasting your time me."

"You're important!" Ezra blurted out. "Your family is important! Didn't you hear the good news? The Ryloth High Council agreed to let you keep Io and Nava."

Ezra was certain that Tamar would finally brighten up to hear his words but she shrugged in defeat. "They can take care of themselves."

The padawan's mouth fell open in disbelief. "Tamar," he whispered. "What happened to you on Naboo?"

She starred into his eyes and a sliver of fear pricked Ezra.

"It was Thrawn, wasn't it?" he asked. "I'm sorry that he hurt and manipulated you. I promise you that he won't get away with what he did."

Tamar's too-thin hand stretched out and touched Ezra's fist. "You are too good, young Jedi. But this isn't your burden to carry."

"If you let me help you then you won't have to carry it anymore," he insisted. "I have healing powers, remember? Let me make this right."

"Maybe I can't be healed. Maybe Thrawn broke me beyond repair."

Ezra was getting exasperated. "That's not true. You've done amazing things with your life, Tamar. And there's still so many things you can do. I  _know_  you can," he persisted. "I believe in you."

She managed to smile sadly at him. "I know you do. But I don't believe in myself, not anymore."

Tamar turned over in the bed. "I want to be alone now."

Ezra didn't want to give up. "Tamar," he protested.

" _Go_!" she shouted with surprising force, starling Ezra. Then in a softer sad voice she added, "Please, just go."

Ezra staggered backwards for a few steps and then ran out of the medical bay.

He ended up outside the temple and had to shield his eyes from the instant flare of light from the sun. Somehow he found himself scrubbing away unshed tears too.

A lithe purple figure saw him and drew closer. Io was carrying a bountiful amount of yellow and red flowers that she had picked from the forest. While the rest of the Rebel officers appreciated Yavin Four for its safe distance from the Empire, Io had become enchanted with the forests and was out until nearly dark every evening searching for flowers, ferns, berries, and bark. She had been warned not to stray too far but continued to persevere in her personal mission.

Ezra thought Io looked charming with the bouquet of flowers cradled into her arms. "These are nice. What are they called?" he asked.

"Goldenray and rubicar," she told him. "Tamar is still bedridden?"

Ezra nodded with a crestfallen look.

"I've tried my best but she won't get out of bed."

"Did you tell her about the Council?"

"Yes. It didn't work."

"Try harder," Io insisted.

"How?"

"I don't know," she said with surprising irritation. "You are a Jeh-di. You  _must_  help Tamar."

"I am."

"No you are not!" Io pouted. "If you were then Tamar would be fine by now."

Ezra scowled at her. "Io, a Jedi can't do everything."

"Then what good is being a Jeh-di?"

Her demand was the last straw. Spurned by weeks of anger and frustration, Ezra finally snapped at Io. "I don't know!" he shouted in her face. "I don't know, okay!? Stop driving me crazy!"

Io's face distorted from his words and she took a step back and away from him. Seeing how his burst of rage had startled her, Ezra's anger wavered. "Io, wait. I'm sorry-I didn't-" he stammered.

Io didn't give him a chance. She threw down the flowers and stomped off.

The anger rushed back twice as thick and hot as before. Ezra looked down at the flowers and in a moment of defiance, his boot came down and crushed them into the dirt. So what if they got ruined? What good would they do Tamar anyway? If she wanted to drown in her own pity, that was fine by him! She wasn't the only one who had lost everything in this war!

He felt the brush of the Force behind him and spun around to see Kanan standing just a few feet away.

Ezra threw up his hands in defeat. "Girls are crazy!" he exclaimed to his master.

He expected a word of rebuke from Kanan about letting his anger overrule judgement. But instead of chastising his student, the Jedi Knight knelt on the ground and quietly began to gather the flowers together. This small modest action touched Ezra, who could feel his fury melting away as quickly as it had come on.

"Kanan," Ezra whispered. The apprentice dropped beside his master and helped him with the flowers. They worked in silence side-by-side for several minutes until Kanan picked up one crumpled blossom between his fingers.

"Do you know what this one is called?"

"Goldenray."

"Ah."

They worked together in silence until nearly half the flowers were salvaged. Ezra used his fingers to brush the last of the dust off them.

"Hera and I want you to know that we're proud of you," Kanan assured him. "You did a good job putting the pieces of the mission together, convincing Hatak Moser to help us, and for checking on Tamar every day."

"But it isn't working," Ezra said with desperation. His shoulders slumped as he went on. "I remember when you told me some battle scars can't be seen. If Tamar won't let me see her scars then how can I help her?"

"Maybe she's too scared to show them," Kanan explained gently. "Or she's too ashamed. Thrawn may have married Tamar under Imperial law but it was no better than making her his slave. Tamar had to put on those chains to protect her family."

Kanan could feel the realization of this discovery open up to his apprentice, followed by a rush of empathy and shame. Ezra closed his eyes and shook his head. "Of course. Why didn't I see it before?"

"You were doing everything you could to rescue her, Ezra. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself either." Kanan's hand rested upon Ezra's shoulder. "Remember those months after Malachor when you and I didn't speak to each other? I was so wrapped up in my own self-doubt that I didn't even realize what was going on around me."

"The Bendu helped you, didn't he?" asked Ezra. His mentor nodded.

Ezra frowned. "So what should I do next? Summon an army of krykna spiders to chase Tamar out of bed?"

Kanan allowed himself a small chuckle. "I'm sure we'll find the right motivation to assist Tamar in coming out of her darkness."

"Yeah, Io and Nava haven't just been gathering flowers. They've found shells and shiny stones for Tamar too. All of them like pretty things," Ezra said. He looked down at the goldenray in his hands. "The petals have these kind of metallic-looking stripes on them," he described to Kanan. "So in the sunlight they almost shine like real gold."

"Flowers mean a lot to Tamar, don't they?"

Ezra nodded. "Even in the club she was fussy about what kinds to put out."

"Was she?" asked the Jedi.

Ezra paused as he remembered his time on Iolanthe. "She said there's a 'language of flowers' and they have special meanings so it was important to please guests with the right types."

Kanan was intrigued. "Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know...I guess not all them mean 'love' so some can stand for 'trust' or 'friendship." It wasn't at the top of Ezra's mental list but he tried to wrack his brain to recall Tamar's words.

"Come to think of it, Tamar said the Empire forbade certain types of plants and flowers so she was careful not to put them out. But I'm not sure why they'd go to all that trouble."

"Moonglory," Kanan told him. "A large blue flower with a white star in the center this big, right?" The Jedi cupped his hands together.

Ezra's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Because we used to plant moonglories in the temple garden."

"Makes sense why the Empire would ban them.

"Do you know if Tamar liked moonglories?"

"Not really. But she made a few points about other kinds on the 'yes' or 'no' list-"

Ezra abruptly stopped in his tracks. A flicker of hope from the Force rippled of his body and Kanan could feel it emerging from Ezra like the birth of a star from within the depths of space. Then Ezra's eyes grew bright with excitement.

"Oh! I think..." He began to pump his fist in the air. A wonderful maddening expression crossed Ezra's face. "I think I know what would work."

"What could work? Ezra, slow down!" Kanan had to stop Ezra before he started running around in circles.

"Tamar won't allow herself to be bedridden forever if she's got a good enough reason to get back up, right?"

"Right," said Kanan slowly. "So what does this have to do with flowers?"

"You'll see," Ezra assured him.

"What do we need?"

"A smuggler." Ezra punched his right fist into his left palm. "With a  _very_  fast ship."

A-A-A

_Several rotations later:_

The glowing red eyes continued to haunt Tamar's subconscious as more days drifted into another week. She preferred to be awake or at least doze lightly enough not to have any real dreams, which left her too fatigued to do anything but stare listlessly into the nothingness.

One morning was just like any other when Tamar woke up in the medical bay. Her bones felt so heavy that she didn't want to move any more than necessary. She wearily pulled the blanket over her shoulders and was about to close her eyes again when something caught her attention.

Sitting in a glass jar filled with water was the blossom that she hadn't seen in years: a single large white flower with tan streaks in its heart. But Tamar knew exactly what it represented as it gleamed at her with its pristine color. The petals burst open like a trumpet as they glistened defiantly in Tamar's face.

A surge of unexpected vehemence burst out of Tamar's chest and swam through her limbs. Where there was once listlessness, now there was anger, and impatience. Her blood pumped through her veins and in one vicious heave, Tamar threw off the blankets.

"Ooh!" she fumed. Tamar struggled to her feet. Never mind that knocking sound in her knees. She was going to give Ezra Bridger a piece of her mind!

Tamar struggled to get a pair of too-large boots onto her feet while grumbling to herself. "If that boy was my son I'd turn him over on one knee and..."

She threw on a robe and stormed into the hangar bay. Several officers looked up curiously at the bare-head Twi'lek in her hospital clothes who was running around the base like a lost sparrow. But her stormy expression prevented everyone from approaching her.  _Almost_  everyone.

A calm male voice came over Tamar's shoulder. "If you're looking for Commander Bridger, he and his team should return in five to seven rotations."

She whipped around to face Kallus. Tamar squinted at the defector. His hair was thicker than she remembered and he had grown a beard on his chin to complete the side brows. Instead of a black I.S.B. uniform, he wore khakis and a tan floor-length trench coat. A weather-beaten messenger bag was slung over one shoulder so was he coming from or departing for an errand? Did it even matter right now!?

"If he didn't tell you in person, I chose to-"

"-Ezra told me about your 'Fulcrum' cover," Tamar interrupted. She put her hands on her hips and glared at Kallus.

"I take it you received the gift he sent you?" he inquired politely.

"That blurgg-dropping big-nosed little brat!" she shouted. People were staring at them but she didn't care. "How dare he bring me that flower! Don't you know what it is?"

"It's a casablanca," answered Kallus. "A rare hybrid in the galaxy known for its remarkable bloom and unique fragrance. It is a symbol of celebration and joyous occasions."

She shook a fist at him. "And what in stars sake do we have to celebrate over these last twenty years? I swore I'd  _never_  have casablancas on my table or in my garden again! Now he had the gall to bring me one after everything we've been through!?"

Kallus raised his hands in the air. "Your emotions are justified. But can we continue this conversation elsewhere?" He jerked his head to the still-gawking officers around them.

He watched Tamar's gaze follow his own to the spectacle around them and she managed to restrain herself long enough to accept the fact that throwing a tantrum in front of the Blue Squadron pilots would do her no good.

"Fine," she grumbled at last. Still seething, Tamar followed Kallus out of the hanger bay and onto a ledge on one side of the temple. A sea of green treetops stretched out below their feet. She unintentionally took in a deep breath of the fresh warm air, her nerves briefly distracted by the sparkling forest encompassing them.

Kallus spread his arms open in a gesture of forfeit. "You are welcome to release your frustrations although I implore you to avoid attacking certain parts of—"

Tamar's fist struck him squarely in the chest. But she was weak from being bedridden and Kallus could tell it was a half-hearted attempt to release her pain. "Feel better?"

"No," Tamar snapped. Somehow the lush forest of Yavin was getting her blood pumping again and Kallus thought the shine in her eyes was finally returning after her comatose state. "It was a mean trick of Ezra to bring me something when happy events are the last thing on my mind. One step forward has become two steps back and I will not have him flaunting victories in my face! What are you looking at?" she demanded.

Kallus remained in place although one tiny corner of his mouth was doing its best not to twitch up with optimism. "You're out of bed. I think that's an adequate celebration."

He watched Tamar's fist quiver in the air and then it began to shake with unspoken emotions. Tamar's fingers uncurled slowly.

"Ezra did not intend to hurt you. He wants you to let go of your self-inflictions." Kallus added, "We all do."

"I can't."

"Why not? Why should you suffer because of Thrawn's sins?"

"Because…." Tamar's voice quivered and then trailed off. She managed to swallow despite a dry throat. "Because at times I enjoyed it. Did you hear me?" she burst out in a frenzy. "I was treated like a princess and I enjoyed it! I can't live with myself because I'm not better than him."

The defector frowned at her words. "No better than Thrawn?" he demanded. "Do you set traps for your enemies and steal their family heirlooms? Do you play mind games with civilians? Or stand by while people get blown up in factories?"

Kallus waited for Tamar to shake her head before going on. "Whatever faults you have, they are nothing compared to the level of cruelty that Thrawn is capable of. He is without mercy or remorse."

"And I'm a greedy little woman who likes making money."

"You like  _earning_  money, Tamar. That makes you stand head and shoulders above the rest." Kallus stepped forward and rested a hand upon her arm. It was a gesture of confidence, warm and reassuring, and Tamar found herself not wanting to break out of his grip.

"In my past career as an I.S.B. agent I dealt with countless criminal activities. People justified what they did to earn a living but showed no regret in shipping slaves, spreading drugs, or kidnapping and destroying families.

Kallus' tone rose up with energy. "But you, Tamar Ily'an, chose a life of integrity and decency. Despite so much corruption in the galaxy, you successfully supported yourself and your surrogate family."

He smiled at her with admiration. "In some ways you've been rebelling against the odds far longer than all of us."

Slowly, Kallus' empathetic words began to sink into Tamar. The ice lodged in her veins was finally starting to thaw out. "That was never my intention from the start," she said feebly.

"But your actions speak for themselves so much stronger than your intentions," he pointed out. "Staying afloat in spite of the Empire's demeaning rules is not something to take lightly. From what Kanan Jarrus told me, it was you who rescued Ezra Bridger from slavers. What could be more righteous than providing sanctuary to a Jedi in the heart of the Empire?"

Tamar slid down and rested her weight upon one the boulders that was baking in the morning sun. Kallus sat down next to her and waited without pressing her further. His words had opened a door of light back into Tamar's bleakness and she could feel it shining through her, breaking up and banishing the horrid thoughts that had tormented her since the rescue and cleansing Tamar of the self-doubt she had been inflicting upon herself.

"I let Thrawn get under my skin," she confessed at last. "Even now I'm worried that his influence still lingers within me."

"The Empire's effect on all of us gives motivation to underestimate ourselves," he responded neutrally.

Tamar fixed her gaze upon him, eyes now glowing with interest. "Is that was motivated you to defect? The discovery that you were being made into something that you didn't want to become?"

He starred out at the endless green sea before him, contemplating words carefully before speaking again. "My betrayal of the Empire has been a long and complicated path," he said at last.

Slowly, he told her his story and Tamar listened attentively to Kallus' words: how his first encounter with the Rebel Ghost cell had been sparked with the capture of Ezra Bridger, setting off a chain of endless pursuits across the Outer Rim.

As difficult as it was for Kallus to tell his story, he could see warmth returning to Tamar's face and so persevered by confessing to her, if only to relieve the lady of her troubles. He told her of the I.S.B.'s capture and then torture of Kanan Jarrus, Kallus' begrudging admiration of the Phoenix Squadron's ability to outmaneuver and escape capture, and the pivotal night when he and Captain Orrelios could have perished together on an icy moon had they not collaborated together to survive.

"Even though I was his enemy, Captain Orrelios remained honorable as we fought for our lives," Kallus explained. "His actions made me question my integrity as an officer of the law. I realized that the peace and order I strove to protect was doing more harm than good. If it sacrificed the liberty of people across the galaxy for benefits they would never live to see then there would be no peace: only an endless cycle of blood and terror."

"And so you made the decision to assist the Rebellion as an inside agent until your cover was blown," Tamar concluded. She felt her lips begin to twitch up. "I finally found someone with a crazier plan than mine."

She paused, aware that her voice felt sore from talking more in a few hours then it had after being silent for weeks. But twilight was approaching Yavin Four and with a purple mist descending upon the trees, Tamar found herself reluctant to go back into the temple.

"Since you were formerly an officer of the Empire, I trust your opinion. Do you know if we have a fighting chance against Thrawn and his subordinates?"

Kallus turned his head aside so that Tamar could not see his smile. She had said " _we_ ", not "you", which confirmed where her convictions lay.

"I will admit that Thrawn's intelligence and prowess are unlike any other officer I have known. We should not underestimate him," he relented.

"Having worked beside him, I can now look back and say that Thrawn's weakness is his arrogance. He believes his superior intelligence is all that is necessary to deliver ideal results. But whereas he has knowledge, the Jedi have wisdom. And the Rebellion has taught me that it takes more than wits to do a job. Trust, loyalty, respect, and the dignity to admit one's mistakes are all valuable assets in this fight."

"He told me that he serves the Empire out of duty." Tamar paused and added, "There's a difference between duty and conviction."

"And a difference between admiring a fellow officer's intelligence and being horrified with his actions," Kallus confessed.

The words came out of Tamar's mouth before she could stop herself. "Just don't tell me he proposed to you too."

Kallus responded quickly by saying, "Come to think of it…"

Tamar managed a timid laugh from the joke. "I'm not against matrimony," she insisted. To Kallus, she seemed to be defending herself. "I think it's a beautiful thing when two people join their lives and commit to each other. But between Thrawn and myself—"

"What you had was not a marriage," Kallus cut her off with a frown. "You were forced into a prison arrangement and incapable of refusing him. No wonder Ezra Bridger was determined to get you away from him. You should not judge yourself based on Thrawn's ambitions to keep you for himself."

"And there are far better men than him," he added quickly. "Men who are honorable and treat other people with decency and respect, like Captain Orrellios, Kanan Jarrus, Fen Rau-"

"And you?"

He was taken aback by her question. Kallus said, "I have committed many wrongs in my past. I only hope I can repair them in some small measure with the rest of my life."

Tamar let his comment rest between them. "So we have something else in common," she suggested. "We both consider ourselves damaged goods."

To this Kallus could not think of a response and so he chose be silent. Then he heard Tamar murmur two words to herself: "Prison arrangement".

What was it Ezra had said before? " _Worse than being a thief or beggar is being a slave or a prisoner,"_ he had told the Ryloth High Council. " _They'll never know a moment's peace because they live in fear under a master's hand."_

She clasped her hands together as she recalled the Council's judgement. "Ezra told me that the Council agreed to let me be guardian to Io and Nava."

"That is good news, isn't it?"

Tamar's brow furrowed. "Yes it is. But there's something I don't understand. The Council demands three witnesses and I only know Ezra and Hogarth had agreed to testify."

Her attention shifted back to Kallus. He said nothing but lowered his eyes modestly. "You? But you were an Imperial agent when I met you!" she exclaimed.

"Which is why it took a great deal of Ezra Bridger's diplomacy to have the Council consent to listen to me," he said at last. "They questioned my loyalties at first but finally consented when I told them about your success in the Haven's Glow mission, as well as your dutiful capabilities in running a productive store on Kaller and bringing Io under your wing."

Tamar's hands came to her chest as she remembered the fatal day in the transport when the Jedi's words had turned all of her concerns around. If her heart grew any bigger with relief she felt it might burst. This defector had risked his life for the Rebellion and put his own reputation on the line in order to appease the Ryloth High Council. In the eyes of her people, no one would have the authority to deny her as the rightful guardian of Nava and Io.

"You saved my family," she finally stated. "How can I ever thank you for such kindness?"

"Not kindness," Kallus insisted. "Atonement. The Empire has destroyed endless homes in this long bitter war and I am guilty by participation. If I had the opportunity to keep one family together, I could do no less than my best."

"And I am grateful to you for doing it." An aura of Tamar's old self, tinged with grace and beauty, had returned to her face. "And…and I thank you for listening to my troubles," she said in a quiet voice.

A stirring of chivalry came over Kallus and he had to resist the urge to clasp her hands into his own or assure Tamar that he would relieve her of future troubles. Instead he merely said, "I am glad to have helped."

Tamar tried to get up but her feet were numbed from sitting in place. When Kallus offered her a hand, she accepted it and pressed the soles of her feet into the stone floor, rising again and then rubbing her legs to return the circulation to them.

" _So this is where I am now"_ , she thought. " _I used to presume that I couldn't rely on other people and had to do everything on my own. But now I realize that sometimes life's burdens are too much for me to handle. But that's all right, because there's no shame in asking for help. And I_ can _count on my friends and family."_

"Now that you are free of Thrawn, have you decided what will come next in your future?" asked Kallus.

"I do indeed." Tamar slipped her hands into the pockets of her robe. "As soon as Ryloth is safe, I will return home to nurture our barren fields. I will plant enough casablancas until people will believe they are walking in gardens of white glory."

She glanced at Kallus. "And what will you do when there's no longer a need to rebel anymore?"

He appeared taken aback by her question. "No one has asked me that so I haven't thought that far." Kallus rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "But if I am that fortunate as to see a free universe prosper…" he paused.

"Yes?"

"I would like to see your casablancas."

Her eyes widened and Kallus looked away. "My apologies," he stammered. "It was bold of me to-"

"-It's all right," Tamar assured him soothingly. "I'm flattered that you asked." She paused and then said, "I look forward to escorting you around Ryloth myself."

"You do?" His brown eyes glowed with barely suppressed delight.

Tamar smiled. "It would be my honor. You must come see our legendary Kyrite Lake too. And perhaps afterwards, we could have a pleasant conversation over some kaff?"

He starred at her and then a kind smile came over his face. "I would like that very much," he answered softly.

"So would I."

They walked down the temple steps together. It was the first in a long time that Tamar felt calm and relieved, and she believed it had much to do with Kallus' presence. She felt safe and comfortable by his side and did not mind that they walked together slowly, taking their time in the mild evening air.

"May I ask you something else?" she spoke up.

"Of course."

"Would you tell me your full name? I presume you don't go by 'Kallus' all the time."

He answered her without hesitation. "Of course. It's Alexander. My name is Alexander Emett Kallus."

"Alexander," she repeated. "It's a good name. It suits you."

A fresh smile restored itself upon Tamar's face. But it was not wide or flashing like light upon the river of Naboo. It was still small yet sincere, graceful and gentle with the hopes of a small blossom peeping out of the earth after an endless frosty winter.

It was a smile that Alexander Kallus wanted to protect from the cruelties of the universe. But it was a fragile smile emulating from a still-wounded soul and so he respectfully nodded to Tamar, reminding himself that her promise of a visit to a liberated Ryloth was in his future.

It would be all the more so crucial to bring a New Republic to the galaxy to make such a future come true.

As if to reward him for his discretion, he felt Tamar's slim blue hand give a small but nevertheless noticeable squeeze inside his own. Then her hand slipped away and the contact between them was broken.

Yet it had been there for the briefest of moments. The contact of each other's hands still lingered in both of their thoughts even as they parted ways within the hangar bay. For Tamar Ily'an, the warmth continued to soothe her as nightfall brought a cool refreshing breeze across Yavin Four.

For Alexander Kallus, it opened up the possibility of standing upon the home world of the Twi'leks. It was the future brimming white with flowers, sparkling with blue-green waters, and graced with the presence of a daughter of Ryloth who would finally be returning home.

A-A-A

_Yavin Four hangar bay, southeast section:_

Hatak Moser was admiring the new paint job on his ship when Kallus approached him.

The young man gestured to the smuggler's ship. "So this is your 'big favor' for throwing your lot in for a Rebellion mission?"

"This was a one-time arrangement," Hatak scoffed. "I have more important things to do than run errands for strangers on a daily basis."

Kallus wanted to inform Hatak that these small (or great) random acts of kindness had a way of circulating among allies. But he knew from experience that recruitment could be a slow careful process and Hatak Moser could be pressed for another day.

"Still, I hope the paint job satisfied your payment demands."

"It doesn't," Hatak informed him. "But even if the Rebellion could pay me a small fortune, which it can't, a man in my trade tends to lose it all the next day."

Kallus was intrigued. "You sound surprisingly satisfied for a man who got less than what he wanted."

"A direct attack on Thrawn more than satisfied my needs," Hatak told him with a wry grin. "As for getting what I wanted, the Rebel Alliance has provided me with a modified engine and enough Imperial security codes to open up some impressive barriers. Both are a better investment in my line of work instead of a case full of credits."

"I am sure the codes will be a great help to you and the Lady's Grace," Kallus agreed.

"It's the  _Nightswan_  now," Hatak said proudly. He pressed a palm to his ship with affection. "As to the use of those codes, there are many civilians rotting in prison thanks to Governor Pryce's treachery. I'm sure it would cause her and Thrawn no small irritation if they somehow 'escaped' confinement."

"Then I wish you and the Nightswan successful journeys." Kallus offered his hand to Hatak. "May the Force be with you."

Hatak clasped the officer's hand in a hearty shake. "And may your steps be lined with good fortunes."

A-A-A

_One week later:_

Ezra had hardly taken five steps back on Yavin Four when the inventory droid rushed up to him and began waving his mechanical arms madly over his head.

"Bridger, you have to do something about her," AP5 lamented with a groan. ""She's ruining  _all_  of my hard work in the supply warehouse."

He was about to open his mouth to ask who was driving AP5 mad when he heard the brisk no-nonsense voice of Tamar emerge from the warehouse.

"I'm not ruining your work, AP5. I'm just making some modifications." She stepped out of the darkened warehouse and into the central landing bay.

Ezra was thrilled to see Tamar stride forward with confidence. He clothes had likely been found in a random pilot's locker and consisted of an oversized gray shirt tucked into faded green cargo pants and a pair of laced-up black boots. But they looked clean and pressed on Tamar's frame and she carried herself as if she was arrayed in satin and cashmere.

In one hand Tamar had a data-pad while the other held a sandwich. She was taking small nibbles while speaking with AP5. "You're better off cataloging everything alphabetically rather than by numbers," she told him crisply. "If someone needs five power convertors then it makes more sense to run the search by 'engine parts' section, not the Basic digit for 'five."

"This is my responsibility, not yours!" AP5 retorted back. " _I_ will decide how to handle the inventory. What do you know about accounting anyway?"

"I have run two successful businesses," she responded calmly.

"You worked in the entertainment and food industry," the droid scoffed. "This is a military base. And since  _I_  am a former Imperial droid, I am the ideal candidate to handle this responsibility. It requires an entirely different style of computations, calculations, and running the possessing data for deliveries."

Instead of arguing further, Tamar gave a shrug and tucked her data-pad under one arm. "Very well, AP5," she relented. "I realize now that I shouldn't get any more mixed up with your inventory. I yield to your superior mind."

"You yield?" AP5 was for once, astonished. When had a humanoid ever admitted their inferior intelligence to a droid? He must not have noticed Tamar lightly swipe a palm over her mouth to conceal the fleeting sarcastic smile.

Then she composed herself again and nodded formally. "I do indeed. Perhaps you could go back and correct my errors?"

"Of course I can," he said with a note of triumph in his mechanical voice. AP5 turned around and went back into the warehouse, still rambling aloud: "My experience and computer training modules make me suitable for correcting any flaws that others can…"

Tamar waited until he was out of earshot and then faced Ezra. "You certainly took your time getting back," she remarked. "I presume you have a debriefing in a few hours?"

Ezra was beaming with happiness. "It's good to see you back, Tamar."

"Likewise. Although a few days ago I was tempted to thrash you because of what you did." She stepped closer to him. "And now I'm more grateful than ever for bringing me a casablanca. You have saved me in every way possible, Ezra Bridger."

"Tamar, I didn't do anything," he insisted with an innocent shrug. "You're the one who rescued me back on Naboo and got yourself back on your feet. I just helped things along."

Her facial muscles relaxed slightly. "I'm not going to say that I'm completely back to where I want to be. But thanks to you, it's a start."

She reached into her pocket and drew out a green and gold ring that sparkled beneath Yavin's sun. "You said that my marriage to Thrawn was invalid, correct?" she asked him. After Ezra nodded, Tamar carefully placed the ring into his hands.

"There's a serial number on each gem that Chopper should be able to file off so they can't be traced. I recommend changing hands at least three times to make sure the trail runs cold. You should get at least eight or nine thousand for all of them."

"Are you sure you want to donate it to the Rebellion? You could keep the money for yourself," he offered.

Tamar shook her head. "I need to close this door behind me. The Rebellion will be doing me a favor by making my 'wedding ring' vanish for good."

Ezra complied and slipped the ring into his deepest pocket. "By the way, I have something that belongs to you." He drew out a rose-gold locket from one of the pouches in his belt and held it up before Tamar. "Do you remember this?"

Tamar leaned closer to get a better look. "I gave that to you when we parted on Kaller, didn't I?"

"It's also the locket that you used to protect Kanan's kyber crystal. This locket is a symbol of who you are, Tamar."

"What do you mean?"

The young Jedi took Tamar's hand by the wrist and placed the locket in the center of her palm. He lifted his head to hers, blue eyes alight with benevolence.

"Kanan told me that the strongest stars have hearts of kyber crystal. That's the best way to describe you, Tamar. You're beautiful on the outside but on the inside you're even more beautiful because you have a radiant heart."

Tamar starred at the locket in her hand and then back up at Ezra Bridger. That young face still held the innocence of adolescence but in his voice and eyes, there was the timeless wisdom of the Jedi shining out of him. His words were enlightening, so sincere and  _loving_ , that she felt her breath get caught in her throat. Tamar thought she might weep with gratitude, basking in the beauty of the Force around him. But there were no more tears to shed.

She remained dumbstruck, unsure of what to respond to his inspirational words. She didn't have to, as Ezra was distracted when he saw Io walking across the field. "Hey, Io! Wait up!" he called out. Ezra dashed off as fast as his legs could carry him.

Tamar rubbed a thumb across her locket and then secured the choker around her neck. Seeing Kanan and Hera walking towards her, she approached to meet them half way.

"A remarkable young man," was all she could say. The expressions of pride on their faces confirmed they were in agreement with Tamar.

"I used to think my duty was to teach Ezra ways of the Jedi," Kanan told her. "But he's told me that the most important things he has learned in his apprenticeship were about life itself and being a good person."

"And we are proud of him," Hera agreed. "More than ever."

Tamar looked back at where Io and Ezra were in an animated conversation some yards away.

_"Could Ezra Bridger be the Chosen One?"_

Thrawn's riddle lingered in her head, however briefly, and Tamar shivered as she tried to brush it off.

She thought back to the truth that she had spoken to him and her hopes that it was not Ezra Bridger's single fate to save the universe. This padawan who had assisted others and still strove to do more should not have to make unfathomable sacrifices. Tamar wanted to see Ezra thrive, to laugh and grow in a galaxy that would give him the liberty to make his own path.

 _"Find the Chosen One,"_ she prayed inwardly. _"Protect him. Fight alongside him. Aid and guide him. But please, do not let Ezra Bridger_ be _the Chosen One._

_"Let another take up that fate. Let Bridger live and be free."_

She realized Kanan's head was turned towards her and without his visor, the expression on his face was a thoughtful one. If he could suspect what she was thinking, the Jedi Knight had the prudence not to inquire. Tamar was relieved that Kanan did not ask her to express her conclusions.

There was still much of the Force that she did not understand. And Tamar knew that some secrets should be respectfully kept away until it was the appropriate time to reveal them. So she chose to let this question remain unanswered and keep the opinion to herself.

Some secrets were like flowers that would only bloom under the right conditions. You could not coax petals out of tight seeds. You had to be patient, allowing them to surface and bloom of their own accord lest they be damaged.

Ezra's past secrets, and his elusive future, were his to keep. Tamar was content to let them be.

A-A-A

"Where are you going? Why are you dressed like that?" he asked curiously.

Instead of a pretty dress, Io was in civilian traveling clothes and carried a leather knapsack. She shifted from one foot to another warily.

"I am going to the base on Athos," she replied at last.

"Athos? But that's Field Intelligence. Why would you-" Ezra's brow furrowed. "Does Tamar know about this?"

"Of course. I asked her for permission earlier on today. Why would it matter to you?" She tilted her head to one side. "Do you miss me already?"

Ezra ignored her question. "You're training to be a spy, aren't you?"

"I am going to study how to identify, evaluate, and prioritize intergalactic threats," Io rattled off her list of duties. "That does not mean I am going to be directly involved in espionage."

"But you'll be gathering secrets from the Empire, won't you?" When Io said nothing he added, "And someday they could send you on scouting missions, right?"

Io's eyes widened. "You are worried about me?"

"Of course I am," Ezra insisted. "It's dangerous stuff, stealing data from the Empire. And also..." The Jedi paused to rub his arm. "I don't want you to go back to who you were when you worked for Baron Sparr."

"That is why I am doing this," Io explained calmly. "I have used myself to do terrible things. I need to make it right."

"By doing field work?"

"I am good at convincing other people," she said. "At least this way I can use it under the Rebellion's guidance. And Hogarth will be going with me to make sure that I do not do anything foolish."

"I still don't..."

Io rested a finger upon Ezra's lips. He instantly fell silent as she went on. "Now I look at you and you look at me. You are right that I must not go back to being a bad person. I have skills that I am still tempted to use for myself. The Rebellion's head of intelligence said if I am willing to learn, I can learn other skills to prevent loss of life under the Empire."

She drew her finger away from his mouth. "If I do not put myself to work then there will continue to be many more bad people in the galaxy. More people like me taking advantage of people like Nava."

Several conflicting emotions spread across Ezra's face and she saw his brow furrow with concern. Io patiently waited for his verdict and at last was rewarded when he sighed, showing a mixture of reluctance and concern.

"Please be careful."

"I will."

She lightly touched his shoulder and then leaned towards him. When Ezra made no movement to break away the contact, she lightly kissed him on the lips. It was not the initiation of a deep and passionate love but the confirmation of forgiveness from wounds that had finally healed.

Ezra still didn't pull away from Io and chose to let her end their brief but tender contact.

It was only then that he was aware of Hogarth heaving duffel bags just a few yards away. Ezra had the courtesy to look sheepish but the burly man just said, "Don't worry, Ezra. Io and I will be watching each other's backs."

He waved an arm back and forth in a gesture of goodbye while Io wiggled her fingers to Ezra. Her dainty figure followed Hogarth into the ship just before the door sealed shut and it took off into the air.

Io made herself as comfortable as she could be in one of the metal-framed seats and hummed to herself. Hogarth took out a few wool cords and webbed them around his fingers, making patterns in the strings. "Tamar wants us to check in every three rotations, got it?"

"I have got it," Io agreed. She placed the knapsack on her lap and was quiet for several minutes until she began to giggle. "You and I will not make very good spies. We are too conspicuous."

"Krayt spit. You got Sergeant Cole to blather like an idiot and I just need face paint to cover this up." Hogarth gestured to the side of his pebbled face with a finger. "We've got enough eyes and ears between the two of us to trip up of the Empire's plans."

"How did you get those scars anyhow?" Io asked. "No, let me guess. You are too modest to admit you did something heroic such as save a child from a fire or prevent a space engine from exploding."

"You really wanna know?" he said. "I was drunk and I walked into a wall."

Io was indignant. "A wall?"

"I was very drunk." Hogarth's hands were now a labyrinth of strings and he slipped his thumbs in and around them, making the shapes change.

He felt Io's lavender eyes scrutinize the tiny grooves and bumps across his face before she spoke again. "That must have been a very bad wall," she concluded.

"It was."

A-A-A

_Jedha, Outer Rim moon_

The shard of kyber crystal embedded within Chirrut Imwe's staff permitted him to detect vibrations in the ground. Crouched in the dusty arch of a dusty street, he could hear the sands swirling around the feet of the newcomer.

He knew it was a woman because of her evenly-paced footsteps that tread gently in contrast to the thumping boots of soldiers. He knew she was a Twi'lek because of the lightest sound of her lekku brushing against her back. And he knew she carried a kyber crystal upon her because the vibrations emulating from her form were strikingly similar to the staff gripped in his palm.

Chirrut could not move objects with his mind like a Jedi. But he certainly could think and act like one. Instinctively, he smiled in her direction. She smiled back.

"Good day to you, most honorable traveler." Chirrut stepped out of the alleyway and bowed to her.

"Good day to you, pilgrim." Her voice was low and musical with a touch of solemnity in it. "Are the others inside?"

"Indeed they are."

She drew closer to him, enough for the Gaurdian to detect the cool powdery scent that broke through Jedha's harsh air. She was like a spring shower in this arid desert and his entire being was basked in her soothing presence.

"If I may, pilgrim." Chirrut felt his left hand, the one not holding his staff, being lifted up and held by long silken fingers. "Your fingernails are cracked," she fretted aloud. She drew back her hand then he felt a cool smooth surface in his palm. Chirrut curled his fingers around the small fat bottle.

"Use this ointment on your hands at least twice a day," she ordered him.

"I will," he promised. She brushed past him and stepped inside the tower and to Chirrut, it was as if the rains were too fleeting.

Once inside the tower, Miri found herself standing in a circle of two dozen other women. All were in various attire but most wore the distinguished red sashes that marked their faith. She shook her head and explained the dilemma to them. "The pilgrim gave us his blessing. He will guard the remainders of this temple while we leave Jedha and seek a safer haven," she concluded.

One woman scowled. "Are we not Guardians of the Whills? Is it not better to die as believers of the Force than live as heretics?"

"Yes!" another agreed. "Better we stay and perish."

Miri's voice hardened into a shard of ice. "I have wished for death many times in my life. Others have wished for life and perished all the same. What good are we to each over if we cease to breathe?!"

Her words caused the women to recoil and the others appeared just as bewildered. She paused to take two deep breaths and collect herself. Then she went on. "We stand strongest as survivors."

"But how can we survive in such terrible times?" the first woman persisted.

"I will teach you," Miri told her. "I will teach you how to keep our faith and skills honed but remain discreet. Someday the Force will need us again. Until that time, silence is our best ally."

The other women glanced at each other with concern. Then a stout gray-haired guardian unraveled her red sash and tossed it into the fire. It twirled in midair like a snake before the flames gobbled it up. A girl of no more than twelve went next, tears trickling down her face as she released her sash. Her companion, who had cheeks of iron, remained dauntless as she also removed her red garment.

Several hours later, they all shuffled out of the tower and past Chirrut. The stormtroopers at the central gate demanded their identification cards and emptied out their traveling bags in search of suspicious activity. But these weren't pesky pilgrims, only a group of timid brown-clad women who were validated members of a seamstress guild. They were of no threat and so were permitted to leave so long as they took nothing but the clothes off their backs and the sewing kits in their hands. They were carelessly bustled into a hover-bus that soon rose above the massive crater city of Jedha.

Chirrut heard the roar of the hover-bus engine and grinned, tilting his head to the sky. He could see what the four star destroyers looming overhead could not: the Emperor's bane had slipped past their cannons and safely into space. Miri's presence as a Force-healer had been subdued into that of a humble traveler and the kyber crystal in her light-dagger was concealed in gnarled wood.

Obi-Wan Kenobi would have been pleased with her methods. And he would have smiled when Miri put a reassuring arm around the twelve-year-old who was still wiping her damp face with a sleeve.

"We are alive," she assured the girl gently. "As long as there is life, there is hope."

The girl looked up at the pale blue Twi'lek and felt calm beneath her steady gray eyes. She leaned against Miri's shoulder and released a sigh of relief.

A-A-A

_Yavin Four, transport office_

Tamar adjusted the visuals until the hologram before her was clear. "Are you doing well on Athos?"

 _"Oh yes, Tamar."_  The tiny hologram of Io flickered before her. and the girl bobbed her head eagerly. _"I mind my manners and show respect to my instructor as you recommended. She says with the proper education I can be a fine courier after two sessions."_

"Two sessions? That's excellent news, Io." Tamar added a smile to her compliment. Though she couldn't see Io's facial coloring, she could tell that her ward was blushing and glancing at her feet, overwhelmed at the praise.

"There's a cargo ship heading in your sector by the end of the week. Would you like me to send you one of those simmer-silk capes in my next delivery?"

Io nearly hugged herself with delight.  _"Could you? I would adore one of them. But how would you manage to find one while on Yavin Four?"_

"I have my ways," Tamar assured her. "What about Hogarth?"

_"He says he doesn't need anything."_

"As always," her guardian lamented.

 _"But I think some basker buns and a new pair of boots would please him,"_ Io suggested.

"He certainly deserves more than that. But I'll make sure to add them to the delivery."

She watched Io's figure shift from one foot to another and was able to decipher the Twi'lek's body language. "Ezra is fine," Tamar added.

_"He is? I am glad to hear it."_

Tamar leaned closer. "Do you want me to send him a message from you?"

A thoughtful expression crossed Io's face and then she shook her head.  _"No, that is all right. But thank you for asking."_

"You're welcome, Io. Send my regards to Hogarth and remind him that Nava and I will meet up with you in several weeks."

 _"I will."_ Io folded her arms across her chest and knelt down in the half-curtsy that Tamar had instructed her.  _"Peace unto you, sister of Ryloth."_

"Peace unto you," Tamar agreed. She turned off the transmission and the hologram vanished. Picking up the data cards on her desk, Tamar went to work on the calculations and computations that General Aberforth had assigned to her. She was soon so engrossed in her work that the next hour went by in swift silence until Hera's presence materialized in the doorway.

"Thought you might like a break," Hera said. She walked forward carrying two steaming mugs of kaff and offered one to Tamar.

"Thanks. Just what I needed." Tamar accepted the mug and cupped it in both hands, breathing in the steam and bittersweet aroma wafting upwards.

She glanced up to noticed a A-wing pilots walking by but they slowed down their strides when they saw their captain leaning against the desk and chatting with her blue-skinned counterpart, who wore an ironed blouse and had a rose-gold pendant glittering on her neck. Upon seeing the officers now standing immobile before them and admiring both Twi'leks, Hera waged a finger at them in mock sternness.

"Eyes back in your heads, boys." They had the courtesy to look sheepish and dash off to their planes.

Tamar chuckled. "If I ever opened up an entertainment committee here, I doubt they'd want to get back up into space."

Hera gestured to the cards stacked on Tamar's desk. "How's it going working for General Aberforth?"

"Good," Tamar said lightly. Then she took a sip of kaff from her mug and her eyes flashed open. She lurched forward and coughed several times. "This, not so good." She held up the offensive beverage for Hera to see.

"It used to be worse," the captain smirked. "How's Nava?"

"Much better than I anticipated on Yavin Four." Tamar set her mug aside. "I think it's good that she and I have some extra time together while Io and Hogarth are on Athos. From what General Aberforth tells me, Nava has the makings of a good long-range communications expert."

"I understand she gave Chopper and Poppy a blood sample to verify her background." Hera lowered her voice to a whisper of discretion. "Is she really Taa' niece?"

"Not directly," Tamar answered. "More of a niece from his late older brother's wife. Nevertheless, the bloodline is a valid one and there are several surviving relatives to confirm it."

"Hmmm." Hera's brow furrowed. "Do you still think they'll try to fight for custody over her?"

"I doubt it. I managed to contact one member of the Taa lineage and he told me the family has been moving around from one Outer Rim moon another for years trying to avoid the Empire's grasp," she explained. "He sounded relieved to know Nava was being looked after and wished me best of luck in raising her."

Hera stirred a spoon in her own mug. "Thank your stars that worked out. I've been anticipating things blowing up in our faces for so long that sometimes it seems safer to have a 'worst case scenario' planned out."

"Not all plans go as we thought, though." Tamar sounded a bit melancholy when she said this but then quickly cleared her throat. "You said you had some news for me?"

"Yes I did." Hera paused to take a sip of kaff. "General Aberforth was pleased with your last report of the base budget. He and I had a discussion and we submitted your name to Mon Mothma's council for their next upcoming meeting."

Tamar was puzzled. "Submission for what?"

"Finance Director for the Rebellion."

Hera watched her counterpart's face light up with astonishment. Then she relaxed and placed her hands on the desk.

"I am flattered to be considered a candidate for the job," she said slowly. "But you know how much I detest politics."

"Which is why you're the least likely candidate to succumb to temptation and corruption," Hera smiled.

Tamar still had reservations. "Running my own enterprise or a subdivision of the Alliance is one thing but working out budgets for the entire army will involve conflicting demands. I doubt I can get much work done with bureaucrats breathing down my neck."

"Not all of them are as difficult as you think they are," Hera assured her. "Senator Mothma is a patient diplomat. And Bail Organa is one of several senators who puts the needs of his people before his own."

"Hmm." Tamar leaned back in her chair and rubbed her locket with two fingers. Hera saw it as a good sign that the opportunity had not been dismissed. And the familiar sparkle of intrigue and new challenges was certainly visible in Tamar's eyes.

"You'll have to remind Senator Mothma that my involvement in this war is in the interest that the Empire that does not dissolve into chaos but rather, is reformed into a New Republic. I want to see an intergalactic government that respects the freedom of its citizens and our private property. No more of these enforced tariffs on the population."

"Well," Hera said slowly. "I don't have the authority to—"

"I want the Outer Rim migration tax cut in half," Tamar interrupted. "In  _half_."

She knew Hera was smiling with good humor at her friend's demands, and that such changes were not the responsibilities of Captain Syndulla. Nevertheless, Hera was aware of their importance to Tamar.

"I promise to let Senator Mon Mothma know of your expectations at our meeting," she suggested.

Tamar raised her own mug of kaff to her friend. "To the sisters of Ryloth who get the job done." They clinked mugs against each other.

Hera had barely leaned away from the desk when Nava barreled into the room and threw her arms around Tamar's shoulders. The pilot took another step back lest all three women crash into the desk.

"I got top marks in class today!" Nava told Tamar.

"Really? That's wonderful," her guardian complimented her. "Just don't go crashing into all of your fellow pupils."

Nava straightened up at once. Leave it to Tamar to remind her to keep herself in check! "Of course not," she insisted. "All communications officers are professionals. General Aberforth says I'm one of the fastest-learning students on the base. And Wedge Antilles said I'm-" She stopped and covered her hands with her mouth, instantly regretting her words.

Tamar's gaze narrowed at her. "What did Antilles say?"

Nava lowered her hands slowly. "Just that I'm pretty and I'm smart." She flushed beneath Tamar's gaze, bracing herself for a further rebuke.

"Well," Tamar said at last. "He has good taste. And I'm sure you didn't have to do a Hutt dance to earn his admiration."

"Oh no, Tamar!" Nava insisted. "I would  _never_  do anything crass in front of the officers."

"I know a fine young lady like you wouldn't."

Nava looked relieved from Tamar's assurance. "Did Captain Syndulla tell you about a new position with the council?" she asked.

Tamar looked from one Twi'lek to another. Hera shrugged her shoulders in a forfeit. Then Tamar nodded in conclusion.

"Great! Ezra's firing up the Ghost right now and oh, please can I come along, Tamar? I want to meet Senator Mon Mothma in person," Nava pleaded. "I heard she's a wonderful speaker. I'll change into that nice frock you set out for me too."

Her guardian's head jerked back in slight surprise. "I did not realize we were working so fast."

"The Rebellion's on a schedule, Tamar. I'm sure you can understand," said Hera.

"The meeting is this afternoon?"

"Yes. General Aberforth already gave the approval to let you and Nava join us." The captain added, "I know it's a lot to take in at once. But we could use your help and you know how much I value making the most of opportunities."

"As do I," Tamar agreed. For once in her life, there was no need to deliberate on the subject anymore. With a new exciting responsibility to take on, how could Tamar Ily'an do anything but accept the offer? She rose from her chair and smoothed out the front of her blouse.

"If now is when they need me, I see no reason to keep them waiting," she declared. "Lead the way, Captain Syndulla."

"Hurrah!" Nava dashed out of the room and towards the Ghost where Ezra was waiting, waving an arm to everyone with enthusiasm. "What's holding us up? Let's go!" he called out.

"The Ghost isn't going anywhere without its pilot," Hera reminded him.

"And you need to come back here, wash your face, and change into that frock," Tamar added to Nava.

"Oops!" Nava threw a half-defeated look at Ezra. "I'll be back in five minutes."

"I'll wait six," he promised her. "Tamar?"

"I'll be along shortly as well."

"You sure?" Ezra called out to her.

She lifted her head and nodded to him with confidence. "I promise. I won't get left behind this time."

She did not run, but walked with a brisk step back towards a series of makeshift dormitories. One door slid aside for Tamar and she stepped into the interior of a rumpled sleeping space. Tamar made the most of her minutes with a flash-shower in the refresher. Then she changed from her blouse into a formal knee-length tunic and polished up her locket with a cloth. There were no processed cosmetics on the base but some of the plants on Yavin Four could be crushed up into salves and Tamar diligently rubbed a bit of one into her hands to make them smooth and another across her lips until they were glossy.

Perhaps these small social details mattered to Mon Mothma's council. Perhaps they wouldn't notice at all. But it mattered to Tamar, who would always aspire to do her best in all aspects of her life.

After examining her reflection in a blank monitor screen, Tamar walked over to the window where the orange-and-yellow rays stretched across a dresser. The flower had been transported from its glass jar into a permanent home of a round clay pot and was cradled in a bed of moist earth. Thanks to her tender care, the casablanca had grown larger and the petals nearly beamed with white beauty. She bent over the dresser, closed her eyes, and breathed in the sweet fragrance from the blossom.

She cupped her hands around the pot and lifted it up into the air. Then cradling it to her chest, she walked out of the room with the same strategic motions as before. There back on the landing platform was Ezra Bridger, still waving and shouting to her, eager for Tamar to join him and his crew among the stars.

"I'm coming!" she called to him.

Tamar hugged the casablanca to herself and stepped back out into the light.

"A woman of valor, who can be found? Her value is beyond that of pearls." –Proverbs 31:10

"A righteous man shall flourish like a (tamar) palm tree." –Psalm 92

END

A-A-A

Author's notes:

I remember jotting down the name "Alexander" and thinking it was a good fit for Kallus when I wrote the first draft of this story. Then on the Wookie Gunner's Chat Rebel Podcast, Dave Filoni confirmed that the inside name for Kallus was indeed "Alexander" (or "Al'xander" as Pep-no on tumblr suggests).

There are many interpretations for the casablanca including the one in this story as an expression of celebration. In Western culture, white is also a symbol of purity, protection, and renewal. In the Sailor Moon manga, "Casablanca Memories", Rei Hino receives casablancas (her favorite flower) on her birthday. Rei's story is a bittersweet one about a young woman releasing the memories of her first lost love and then sacrificing her future romantic aspirations for her current duty as a guardian of justice.

Another interpretation is the translation of casablanca into "White House" (i.e. a place of sanctuary) and the timeless film "Casablanca" that inspired this saga from the start. In the film, Rick's cafe is a physical and metaphorical oasis in the Moroccan desert: a place where refugees and exiles can find a temporary safe haven during World War II. This is parallel to Tamar who creates her nightclub in the heart of the Empire as a safe haven for herself and her family. And like Rick, she come across as cold and indifferent to avoid getting hurt again.

In the "Casablanca" film, Rick overcomes his neutrality and finally takes a patriotic stand. Tamar doesn't change so much as take down her walls, revealing her true nature due to Ezra Bridger's influence. Tamar wouldn't make a good soldier on the battlefield and she'll leave the piloting expertise to Hera. She will always enjoy bargain hunting, good kaff, and fine flowers. But she does her own share of good in her unique way and that's what has made her a joy to write from the beginning, as well as the members of her family who developed their own backstories and sagas as I wrote more of them.

I thank fans for reading and joining me on this wonderful journey of destiny and wonder. May the Force be with you.


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